


Nothing Less Than Poetry and Songs

by tigriswolf



Series: Alternate Universe [265]
Category: One Direction (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Healing, M/M, Past Abuse, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis’ popular book series is being turned into 9-episode show on the BBC, and there’s a man with curls he keeps bumping into.  [See notes for trigger warnings.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betkaludmova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betkaludmova/gifts).



> Title: Nothing Less Than Poetry and Songs  
> Disclaimer: some of them are real people and some aren’t; the fictional ones belong to me, the real ones belong to themselves.
> 
> Warnings: I am making shit up about how publishing works, how television shows work, and how fan conventions work. Please just go with it. References to past spousal abuse (emotional and physical). A lack of self-care and minor disordered eating. Talk of depressive episodes. 
> 
> Pairings: Harry/Louis (eventually), past OMC/Louis, Nick Grimshaw has a crush on Louis  
> Note: I’ve done a little research into what university might be near Doncaster but it’s such a minor thing in the fic. If anything’s wrong, please just handwave it. I’ve also changed some things about the art festival for that university to suit my timeline. Also, nothing about the BBC office as mentioned is accurate, so please just go with it. Probably, the publishing house is wrong, too.  
> Another note: this is set in 2015-2016 but I’ve aged everyone in Harry & Louis’ families up by four years with the age differences remaining the same. Anyone else’s age has been changed at my whim. 
> 
> I combined two of the prompts while changing a few things to create a story I really enjoyed writing.
> 
> Thanks be to **E** for britpicking and betaing!

It’s his last signing before the news is released that _Fortress_ is going to be turned into a miniseries on the BBC and Louis hasn’t been this nervous since his first book _Bloodfall_ (not part of _Fortress_ , and so cringeworthy in hindsight) was published eight years ago. Considering how poorly _Bloodfall_ did, his nerves are probably not a good sign. 

After this last little convention, he’ll have to buckle down and get to work: in the next few months, he needs to finish the last of the _Fortress_ series while also turning the first three into a screenplay for the BBC. The screenplay has been quite a lot of fun, as he picks and chooses what to include; he only hopes the fans like the changes. The book, however, has been fighting him a little. The BBC minion chosen to keep him happy, Nick Grimshaw, pesters him daily about the final book and Louis delights in telling him the most outlandish things. Nick’s boss Taylor Swift, on the other hand, seems to have constant creative differences with him. Louis really hopes that isn’t a bad omen for the project. 

He's all settled at his table, a few of each of the first four _Fortress_ books as well as a couple copies of _Changeling_ and _‘til I Change My Luck_ stacked at one end, when a young woman pops up; the doors won’t even open for a few more minutes, so she must know someone who works in the building. “I love _Fortress_ so much,” she gushes, her unnaturally red hair pulled back in a messy tail. She’s clutching the omnibus edition of the first three, which some people call the trilogy even though it’s not. “Madria is _**amazing**_ , my favorite character of _**all**_ time.” 

He smiles up at her, holding out his hand for the book. “Thank you, Miss…” 

“Helena,” she says as he takes the book and sets it on the table. “Helena Wills.” 

Behind her the doors open and people begin to stream in. _Fortress_ hasn’t been anywhere near as big as _Harry Potter_ , of course (Louis is fairly sure nothing will ever equal that again), but it’s been given the place of honor at this convention and people start queuing behind Helena as he scrawls, 

_Madria would be proud to fight beside you. Thanks for the love! Louis_

It’s barely legible but that doesn’t matter. 

Madria, of course, is both a fan favorite and perhaps the most heavily-debated character on the various forums. She’s a strong, terrifying, sympathetic warrior queen; Louis has told absolutely no one she’s based on his mum. 

“Would you like a spoiler?” he asks Helena, handing the book back. 

Helena nods frantically so Louis waves her close as they both lean across the table. He grins and whispers, “Madria survives.” 

She smiles widely, clutching the book to her chest. “Oh, thank you!” 

Book 4, _Fire Within_ , ended on the cruelest cliffhanger of Louis’ career, Madria’s fate unknown. The internet has been shouting about it for a year now. 

Helena disappears into the crowd as the next fan steps up. 

.

Louis smiles at and greets everyone, signs whatever they want signed, answers questions that won’t result in spoilers, and is constantly amazed that so many people love the world he created. Despite his success with _‘til I Change My Luck_ and _Changeling_ , he still can’t quite believe the madness. For fuck’s sake, some of the reviews called _From the Sky_ , the first of the _Fortress_ series, a game-changer for the genre. How mad is that? It was just a little book about aliens landing in a medieval land where elves and dwarves coexisted mostly peacefully with humans. 

The day is drawing to a close, with only stragglers left, when a deep voice drawls, “I can’t wait for the last book.” Louis blinks up at the man, who is about his age with long dark curls framing his face, the rest tucked into a bun. He’s smiling, dimples that Louis wants to poke on his cheeks. His eyes, an arresting green Louis has never seen before. 

Louis hasn’t written poetry since—But staring up at this man holding all four _Fortress_ books in his extremely large and beautiful hands, Louis wants to pen sonnets. 

“Hi,” he breathes out and the man’s smile widens. 

“Hi, Louis,” the man says. He’s one of the very few left in the hall, Louis barely notices. Everyone else has started packing up. “I’m sure you’re tired of talkin’ about the books, but I have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course,” Louis says. “Want me to sign somethin’ while you ask?” 

The man carefully drops all four books on the table. “Thank you,” he says. His voice sounds like the way Louis’ favorite chocolate tastes. “’m’Harry. Sign _Exodus_ , please? ‘s’m’favorite.” While Louis digs for _Exodus_ in the pile, Harry asks, “Did you always plan for five volumes?” 

“No,” Louis answers. _To Harold_ , he writes on the title page and then stalls. Glancing up, he meets those green eyes that deserve sonnets and says, “I thought I could maybe stretch the story into a trilogy when I started with the idea but halfway through _From the Sky_ , while jotting down all the world-building that became _Exodus_ , I realized it’d take more than three to do it justice.” 

Harry nods solemnly, biting his bottom lip. Louis quickly looks back at the page. What should he write? 

“Um,” Harry begins, sounding hesitant, “I know you touched on this on Graham Norton.” (which, Louis had only gotten on that show because Ewan is apparently Graham’s favorite person, and they had him on that couch with Rihanna and Sir Ian McKellan, and besides his lunch with JK Rowling, it was the most unbelievable moment of his life) “But, uh, how do you feel about fanfiction?” As Louis glances up, eyebrow raised, Harry quickly says, “Not that I write any!” 

He’s flushing delightfully, and an utterly _**terrible**_ liar. “Are you sure?” Louis asks, glad he’s not the only one nervous here. That must mean Harry is interested in men, which is… not that important, really. He doesn’t want anything serious and it’s just better—

Harry is clearly searching words, so Louis takes pity on him and says, “Before _Bloodfall_ , I wrote fanfiction meself. I think it’s amazin’, what fans can do with the characters.” Harry’s smile blooms slowly this time. Louis continues, “I might have an account meself at A03, where I post what-ifs for _Fortress_.” 

Harry’s mouth drops open. “You post _Fortress_ fanfic?” 

Louis smirks at him. “I even got flamed once, was accused of havin’ everyone outta character. Gave me quite the laugh.”

“Holy shit,” Harry murmurs. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.” Louis chuckles and Harry adds, “That you write and post fanfic, not that you got flamed.” Louis laughs softly, shaking his head. 

“Thank you,” he says, scrawling down,

_You deserve poetry about your smile and songs about your eyes. Settle for nothing less._

 _Louis Tomlinson_

He closes the book and restacks them all before looking up. There are members of the staff flitting around and the other guests are packing up. If Louis didn’t have a dinner meeting with Nick scheduled—

“Thank you, Harry,” he repeats. “I hope the final book meets your expectations.”

“I’m sure it will,” Harry tells him earnestly. “I haven’t been disappointed in anything you’ve written.”

Louis scoffs. “What about _Bloodfall_?”

“I loved _Bloodfall_ ,” Harry says as he gathers up the _Fortress_ stack. 

“I’m glad someone did,” Louis says softly. “Thank you for comin’.”

It looks like Harry wants to say something else and Louis waits, trying not to hope or let the nerves take root. He hasn’t dated since Martin, five years ago. One night stands here and there, but not in a couple years, which scratched the itch but weren’t really fulfilling, which is why he stopped. He’s always been a romantic at heart, even though Martin nearly bled him dry of it. (There’s a reason, after all, that _Changeling_ was so dark. Mum hates the book because she knows why he wrote it.)

He tears himself away from the regrets as Harry smiles and says, “Thank _**you**_ , Louis. You… you’ve done so much for me.” 

“I’m glad to have met you,” Louis says. 

Harry can’t wave or offer a hand so he nods before turning to walk away. Louis watches until he turns the corner and then sighs heavily. He pulls his travel notebook over to jot down

 _a world in eyes green as the sea_  
_depths I want to plunder_  
_secrets I’d let drown me_  
_a world I want to know_.

He packs up his kit and then finally checks his mobile for the time: it’s somehow gone 6pm. The day positively flew by; Louis doesn’t even remember eating lunch. It’s entirely possible (and highly likely) that he didn’t… which would explain why he’s so fucking hungry. 

“How’d it go, Mr. Tomlinson?” Jack asks as Louis stands and stretches; he’d helped Louis get ready this morning. 

“Pretty good,” Louis says. “And now I’ve gotta run for a meetin’—can you help get all this to me car?” 

“Sure,” Jack says, grabbing for the larger of the two boxes while Louis searches for his keys. 

He doesn’t finally pull out of the carpark until half six, so he texts Nick _running late_ and Nick replies _R we surprised? ;)_. Louis ignores him. 

.

Nick has already eaten all of the appetizer by the time Louis arrives but it’s a little café Louis is familiar with so he’s ready to order immediately. 

“We have a tentative cast in mind,” Nick says while Louis sips at the drink Nick had waiting for him. “We like Jesy Nelson for Madria, Leigh-Ann Pinnock for Elisabeta, and Zayn Malik for Rolan.” 

“ _ **Zayn Malik**_?” Louis repeats incredulously. “We have the budget for him?”

“Of course we do,” Nick scoffs. “I think you’re underestimatin’ how much we value this project, Louis. We’re plannin’ on it bein’ the next _Game of Thrones_.”

“No pressure, then,” Louis mutters and Nick laughs. 

“We need the script finalized by April,” he says. “We’ll begin production in June—we’re shootin’ for it to start airing in January, yeah?” 

Louis nods. “Sounds doable.” April is when the final copy of his book is due, too. That’s the rest of his year and the start of next year sorted, then.

The food arrives and Louis ravenously starts eating. Business finished, Nick pesters him about Book 5, as usual. 

“Not even the title?” Nick moans. “C’mon, love, what’ll that hurt?”

No one, not even Louis’ closest friends Niall and Liam, or Mum, or any of his sisters, know the title of Book 5. It’ll be sent in with the final draft, of course, but before then, it’s Louis’ alone. Part of it is his ritual to make sure he finishes the book, but the rest of it is how sometimes, it feels like nothing about _Fortress_ belongs to him anymore. After _River’s Crossing_ came out, JK Rowling tweeted a question about one of the smaller details, which up ‘til then was the pinnacle of Louis’ life. They even got lunch, arranged by their agents, and Louis still has trouble believing it happened. They exchanged autographs—hers on _Prisoner of Azkaban_ and his on _’til I Change My Luck_. She gave him advice on how to navigate the world when it’s gone mad. 

“It just started as a story,” he told Jo, and he echoes it now to Nick. “I never in my wildest dreams imagined any of this.”

Nick gives him a sympathetic smile. “Well, I’m glad you wrote that story down.”

.

It is a long, tiring six months later, the first of April, when he sends in the final draft of Book 5 and the very last revision of the script for _Fallen_ , the television name for _Fortress_. He’s not best-pleased with the name but the BBC ( _ **Taylor**_ ) overruled him.

As soon as he’s hit _send_ , he starts working on a short epilogue and as the words spill across the page, he can’t stop thinking of that green-eyed, curly-haired, dimpled man who was so delighted Louis wrote fanfiction for his own books. He’s thought about Harry off and on, has written movies about them together in his mind—but doesn’t let himself linger on the daydreams and fantasies for long. What’s the point? He thinks sometimes that Martin broke him.

The epilogue keeps growing, almost without his permission. It’s not that Book 5 ends on a cliffhanger—not even Louis is that cruel or suicidal—but it is ambiguous, open to interpretation. Madria and Lis deserve a happy ending after everything they go through, but that’s not how _Ascendancy_ wanted to end. So he stays awake until after sunrise, writing about the warrior queen who fell from the sky and her reunion with the newly-crowned Queen of Parabin, and it is _**so**_ fluffy, yet there’s all those political shenanigans his fans seem to love. The final product (which will be edited by himself when he can think straight again) is almost 60,000 words. Ridiculous. 

He could write a collection of short stories set in the _Fortress_ world; Ewan and Nick would both be thrilled. There’s still so much he’s barely touched on, after all. 

But what he wants is to wait until the day after _Ascendancy_ hits shelves and post it to his A03, with an inside joke author’s note. Something like, _Told you, H with the curls_. 

Ewan would find it funny, Louis’ A03 account **Donnyboy78** with fanfiction for every one of Louis’ books except _Bloodfall_. Ewan’s bosses, the Simons, on the other hand, would not. Posting for free what they could get money from… no, it’s best those worlds never collide. 

He hits _save_ , closes his laptop, sets it beside him, and collapses back into his pillows, already mostly asleep. 

.

When he wakes up after noon, Nick’s already texted him over twenty times, mostly in emoticons. As he’s done working for at least two weeks (except for a few scattered meetings) and hasn’t been home since Christmas (except for the day of both sets of twins birthday, and Mum’s), he packs a few bags, fills up his tank, and drives to Doncaster. 

It’s a Saturday. Lottie’s still at her internship for some cosmetic company over in Paris and Fizzy’s on a trip with her girlfriend to Dublin, but both sets of twins should be home. Louis texts Mum while he’s driving through town (stopped at a redlight) to ask if he needs to pick up dinner for the crew and she replies with, _No luv weve leftovers :) see u soon!_

The moment he steps through the door, Phoebe starts demanding information about Madria and Lis; she’s been an ardent shipper since _From the Sky_ and used to argue on the forums about it, though she stopped (he hopes) since he asked her to. He’s also fairly sure she’s posted fic though he has not dared confirm it. 

“Let him breathe,” Daisy laughs, peering around the kitchen door. Dorie and Ernie come careening in to plaster themselves to him and Louis feels the tension leave him. 

He does so love being home. 

.

Off and on over the next few days, Phoebe tries ambushing him for answers about _Ascendancy_. After he tells her the title, she obliquely tweets about it. She and Daisy created a fancast ages ago, so he’s forced to listen to their presentation on the topic since there’s an actual show happening now. 

He sighs long-sufferingly but actually enjoys it. Mum just muffles her laughter with muffins she and Ernie baked. 

It drizzles for most of Sunday but once it clears, Dorie drags him into the yard to practice kicking goals. 

“Will you come back in May?” Daisy asks once he’s showered off the mud and collapsed on the sofa. She settles almost nervously beside him fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Only, I’ve got a display in the art festival, see.” 

“Of course, Petal,” he says. “How are classes going?” 

“Good, they’re good,” she says, settling back against the cushion. She’s never been as outgoing as Phoebe and used to let Phoebe take the lead in any interactions with the outside world but since they’ve gotten to uni, they’re separating a little. Phoebe is taking after Mum and going into either teaching or childcare, she hasn’t decided, while Daisy is exploring all the art design stuff that the University Centre has to offer. 

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Louis asks and Daisy babbles excitedly for nearly a full hour, brighter than he’s seen her in a long time. 

.

He leaves mid-day Wednesday because the executive design team for _Skyband_ (the newest name Taylor’s decided for the show, _**ugh**_ ) wants to pick his mind about costuming details and make-up options. He can visualize everything in his mind, of course, and he’s conveyed quite a bit of it through the text, but what he’s imagined and how the fans interpreted it have differed in some cases. He has found a few fan-artists that are generally close to his imaginings, so he uploaded some of their drawings onto a USB for the meeting. (He did try contacting all three of them for permission. From one of them ( **purplepetals** ), he got excited squeeing and approval; from the other two, there was either silence or disbelief. So.) 

He doesn’t want the show to look exactly like the art, but he figures it’s a good starting point for the meeting. He has a Word file and a notebook full of little details about Parabin and Kylos, their clothing and art and everything—hopefully, some of it will be useful. 

The meeting is at 1:30 so Nick picks him up at his flat for lunch on Thursday and then gives him a brief tour of the halls around the conference room before escorting him in. There’s a group of five people sitting around a table and Nick makes introductions before saying, “Gotta dash; Louis, I’ll be back around 4 or so to take you home. Ta, all!” and rushing out the door. 

“Taylor’s on the warpath today,” one of the women (Anna, maybe?) says. “I heard Cally talking about it in the loo.” 

Louis glances around the room. “Anyone mind if we do introductions again?” he asks. “Hi, I’m Louis Tomlinson, author.” 

The first woman laughs. “Good to meet you, Louis. I’m Anna Holmes, make-up artist.” 

The man beside her smiles. “Ethan Coltrane, costume designer.” 

“Caroline Watson,” the next woman says. “I’m in charge of the costumes. My assistant couldn’t be here today, unfortunately.” 

“Kyra Jones,” says the one with fluorescent blue hair, waving. “I do a bit of everything.”

The last person says, “I’m Lou Teasdale, hair and make-up.” She nods to the chair across from her. “C’mon, love, sit down. I’ve got so many ideas!” 

“Thanks,” Louis says, setting down his notebook. “Is there a computer I could hook up to? I’ve brought some art.” 

“Of course,” Caroline says. She stands and goes to the podium at the front of the room, where a hard drive has apparently been hidden behind a panel. “We don’t use this room that much,” she says apologetically as he tries to wake the computer up. 

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, glaring at the machine. 

“Um, I brought my laptop?” Ethan says. “If you wanna use that instead?” 

Louis smiles, biting his tongue to keep in something sharp. “That’d be lovely,” he says, rising to his feet and gently closing the panel. 

.

“Oh, I really like this one,” Lou says, tapping the screen to enlarge the image. “Reminds me of something H suggested, remember, Ethan?” 

It’s an elaborate portrait **silenaro** did of Madria and her council in their ceremonial attire from a scene in _Exodus_ , before they left their homeworld. Louis likes almost everything **silenaro** has posted but they haven’t responded to any of his asks about it, which is as funny as it is frustrating. 

“He forgot to leave his sketchbook here,” Lou tells Louis. “Got this whole section of ideas for the show but his sister went into labor almost a month early so he panicked.” 

“That’s right!” Kyra laughs. “ _Styles’ Styles_ , isn’t it?” 

“ _Styles by Styles_ , I thought,” Ethan says.

“Is his sister alright?” Louis asks. “And the baby?” 

“Yeah, last we heard,” Carolina says. “He’s kept us updated with pictures. Healthy little girl, healthy mum.” 

“That’s good,” Louis says, relieved. 

.

The meeting ends soon after and Nick arrives at ten ‘til 4 much more relaxed than he’d been when he left. “Crisis averted,” he announces with a grin. 

“Good to hear,” Louis says cheerfully. “Wasn’t about my show, was it?” 

“Nah, one of the other programs.” Nick nods to the design team who are all gathering their things. “We good to go?” he asks. 

Caroline smiles. “Yeah, Nick. Louis, it was good to meet you.” 

“You, too,” he says, collecting his notebook and USB. “Ready to play chauffeur again?” 

Nick laughs way more than the comment deserves, which bothers Louis for a reason he isn’t quite sure of. But Nick rests a hand in the small of Louis’ back as they walk to the lift, chatting about the difficulties with a news programme that put his boss in a bad mood. Louis replies whenever Nick leaves room for one, and Nick laughs every time. 

Louis feels like he’s on hyper-alert, but Nick hasn’t been like this before. At their last lunch in March, after Louis approved the director the network wanted for the pilot episode, Nick had been as charming as he always was while also taking the piss out of Louis. This obsequiousness is just… odd.

On the ride home, Nick chats about his other projects without looking at Louis once. But when they’ve pulled up outside his flat, Nick puts the car in park and turns to face him. “Louis,” he says, “would you like to get dinner with me?” 

Louis blinks at him. “To discuss the show,” he asks, nerves pooling in his belly, “or as something else?” 

“As a date,” Nick says, smiling slightly. 

Louis’ mind blanks entirely as he stares at Nick, whose smile drops off as the silence stretches. “Um,” Louis finally manages, trying to remember how to reject people without offending them. He was really good at that, once. “Thank you, Nick, I’m flattered.” 

Nick raises an eyebrow, turning to look out the windscreen. 

“Really,” Louis says. “It’s just, I’m not lookin’ right now. I’m focusing on work.” He digs all ten of his fingers into the meat of his thigh, trying not to let on how bothered he is. 

“Alright,” Nick says after a moment. “Well, then.” He laughs a little. “I’ll see you Monday after next, for that meeting about casting _Skyband_ , yeah?” 

“Of course,” Louis agrees, nodding fervently. “Thank you, Nick.” He slips out of the passenger seat, towing his bag after him, and pauses before he closes the door to say, “Really, I’m flattered.” Nick smiles at him, so Louis can only hope this won’t change things. Nick’s quite fun to be around, and he’s the person at the Beeb who knows _Fortress_ the best. But it’s good they have a week until he has to see Nick again.

“I’ll pick you up for noon,” Nick says. “Lunch before the meeting?” 

“That sounds lovely,” Louis says. He repeats, “Thank you,” before closing the door and turning to enter the complex.

.

After stripping out of his semi-fancy work clothes, Louis collapses face-first onto his bed and resolves not to move until hunger drives him to the kitchen. He’s not sure he ever falls all the way asleep but it’s after sunset when he finally rolls onto the floor and slowly stands up. His mobile has been chirping at him for at least a geological age so he picks it up on the way to the kitchen to find something worth eating. There isn’t much so he orders delivery from his favorite Italian place, settles onto the sofa, and opens his messages from Niall first. 

He may have been neglecting the lads lately, Louis realizes, as he scrolls back through the texts, looking for the last one he replied to. Not since February, apparently. Oops. He checks Liam’s, too, and then sends a group text, inviting them to dinner for the next night, anywhere they can agree with each other to go. 

Niall replies an immediate affirmative and then starts ranting about the most recent football game, which Louis had unfortunately not watched. He turns on the telly to check the DVR and then puts the game on, curling up to watch and wait for his food. 

After the game is over (and he sends back a rant of his own to Niall), he showers and falls into bed. 

. 

He wakes up bright and early, wanting to read _Bloodfall_ for the first time since he saw the first review. Martin had said, after he’d slammed his laptop shut and set it aside, “I warned you, babe,” and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before going in to work. Martin never had believed in his writing, hadn’t liked any of the poems Louis wrote for him, so he eventually stopped writing poetry altogether. 

He stares up at the ceiling. _Bloodfall_ is the only of his books he never kept a copy of. He could go to the nearest library, after it opens. Or a bookstore. If he really wants to read it. 

Louis had loved _Bloodfall_. He’d been completely enamored with the idea of vampires dealing with a zombie apocalypse after one-too-many marathons of bad movies with Liam, had written incessantly for months. His classes had suffered a little but he’d made it work. Martin hadn’t wanted to hear about it but Liam constantly asked how it was coming. He’s still not sure why exactly it did so poorly but if it hadn’t been for Liam and Mum, he possibly would’ve given up writing, after. 

“Fuck it,” he mutters and gets out of bed. 

.

After he makes himself eggs on toast, he googles the nearest bookshop and calls to ask if they have a copy of _Bloodfall_ available. He’s not sure if he’s glad when they do. But he gets dressed, pulls on a beanie, and decides to walk because for once it’s a lovely day. 

He can’t stop thinking about Martin. He knows it’s because of Nick, because of yesterday, and even when he actively thinks about something else (the girls and Ernie, his current favorite song, what a terrible name _Skyband_ is), thoughts of Martin sneak in. He gave that lout nearly five years of his life. 

Mum had hated him from the start, so Louis stopped visiting. Liam had been disapproving, so Louis stopped hanging out with him. 

But it’s all over. Has been, in fact, for longer than it lasted. He never felt this queasiness in his stomach about any of the one night stands, or the dancing in the clubs—probably because he hadn’t known any of them before and wouldn’t see any of them again. 

Before he knows it, he’s passed the bookshop up and has to turn around. 

.

Thankfully, the cashier does not recognize him. He hadn’t allowed his picture to be attached to any of the blurbs about the author that’d be in the books, but once _Changeling_ got mentioned by Oprah people researched him. He’s done a handful of interviews since _Fortress_ exploded, and there’s a whole round of promo looming due to the show, which is equally exciting and nerve-wracking, but for now, he’s mostly unnoticeable. 

He’s meeting the lads at Niall’s favorite pub for 6 and he doesn’t want to lurk in his flat today. After he steps out of the bookshop, _Bloodfall_ in hand, he sighs and looks around for a café or coffee shop where he can hide away in a corner. When one isn’t readily available, he pulls out his mobile and starts meandering north while googling.

There’s one a few blocks away, so his meandering develops purpose. Lottie also texts him when he’s halfway there, with make-up tips for the show, so after he’s settled at a table and put in an order for a small sandwich and a large tea, he texts her back and the ensuing conversation eats up the next half hour or so. Once her break is over, though, and she’s gone back to work, Louis looks at the novel sitting innocently on the table. 

He’d been so young. Not even twenty when he actually started writing it down, though he’d had the idea for at least year before Mum encouraged him to put it to paper. If he’d listened to Martin, it wouldn’t exist, which means Ewan wouldn’t have read it and seen potential, which means there’d be no _Fortress_. If _’til I Change My Luck_ hadn’t done well—Louis honestly doesn’t know where he’d be. Probably back in Doncaster teaching drama, which doesn’t sound half-bad, to be honest. But while he does think he’d enjoy that, it wouldn’t be the same. 

He turns the book over and flips it open. 

.

He tops up his tea twice and purchases a small pastry after he finishes his sandwich. The story is funnier than he remembers (or he’s just forgotten the punchlines), and he still adores Cora the vampire and her idiot childe Ronnie, and even the main antagonists Theo the half-zombie and Demara the zombie sorceress. It’s dark, of course, being set after the apocalypse and all. But it’s so much fun. 

Maybe there is something to Harry of the curls loving this book. 

It’s nearing 2 when he sets the book aside, ideas swirling in his head. He’s barely thought of this story at all in eight years but now he has the itch to write more for it, so he pulls out his mobile and the pen he always carries, writing on the front and back cover of the book until he runs out of room, when he picks back up in the Notes app. The story doesn’t seem to want to be long, and it’s just Theo musing on what he remembers from his life, and why he’s obsessed with Ronnie (and then how he feels right before Cora rips his head off, Louis already knows it’s going to end mid-sentence, even though he’s barely halfway through). 

His mobile chimes at half 3, Nick letting him know that Taylor’s changed the name of the show _**again**_. He sighs, shaking his head, and returns to the story. His flow is ruined, though, so he pockets his mobile, tucks _Bloodfall_ under his arm, and picks up his trash to put in the bin. He needs to get home and type all this up, anyway. 

.

By the time it’s half five and he absolutely cannot put off getting ready anymore, Louis has the first story all typed up with a few revisions and a second started. He takes a quick shower, pulls on joggers and a decent shirt, and is out of the flat by a quarter ‘til. 

He’s definitely going to be late, but Liam and Niall are quite used to that. Niall’s pub isn’t that far away so he locks up, texting _on the way lads!_

.

He arrives at ten after to find Niall and Liam already at a table with food waiting. “Lewis!” Niall shouts, bouncing up to hug him. 

“Hey, Nialler,” he says, letting Niall squeeze him uncomfortably tight. Once Niall steps back, Liam swoops in for a hug, too, the bright grin on his face reminding Louis why he had such a crush on Liam the first month they shared a dorm. 

“So,” he says as he sinks into his chair to pull the fish and chips closer, “what’s going with you?” 

Niall and Liam share a glance. “Well, I’ve found a new job,” Liam says. 

Louis drops the chip he was about to put in his mouth. “You loved that job!” How little attention has he been paying, if he’d no idea Liam left his job at the radio? 

“I hated the people I was workin’ with, Lou,” Liam says. He’s still smiling. “I’m workin’ at Central now, helpin’ out with the sound.” He reaches over to steal a chip and Louis lets him. “Eat up, you’re skin and bones.” 

Louis turns his gaze to Niall. “Any major life changes on your end?” 

Niall shrugs. “’m’thinkin’ of going freelance, maybe. So long as that idiot Dave’s workin’ there, I don’t have a chance of bein’ promoted, you know?” 

“Okay.” Louis sighs, digging back into his food. “Tell me how the lads are doing,” he orders Niall. “Catch me up on everythin’.” 

Liam chuckles but Niall sits up straight and takes the job quite seriously, reporting back everything that’s happened since Louis stopped paying attention in February.

.

He gets home late and falls into bed without undressing. When he wakes up in the morning because he’s cold, he finds that he’d somehow kicked the joggers off and thrown the covers onto the floor. He stares up at the ceiling for a little while, until the hunger becomes too loud to ignore. After he’s heated up his breakfast pastry, he settles with his laptop at the table and rereads what he’d written the afternoon before.

He changes a few things, adds a scene in the middle for a flashback, and polishes the ending. Once the first story is finished, he opens the other file and rereads what little there is. The first story (creatively titled “Red Rain” at the moment, though that’ll probably change before he posts it) is just rehashing what happened from another character’s point of view but the second is changing one very important detail for the whole story: instead of vampires dealing with a zombie apocalypse, it’s about zombies dealing with a vampire apocalypse. The idea is entirely too epic for him to really start working with now, what with the show and all. ( _Visitors_? That isn’t any better than _Skyband_ , honestly.) But he can do a little series of drabbles about it, and save the idea for his Ideas File, which dates back all the way to when he was thirteen and first discovered poetry. 

A series of twelve drabbles, each no more than 200 words, set in a particular month from January to December, and each focused on a zombie that appeared in _Bloodfall_. That’s his Saturday sorted, then. 

.

That evening, Louis logs into the email account purely for his online fannish activities. He keeps one address for entirely professional things, one for his family, and one for his fanfiction. His attempts at contacting fanartists are generally from his professional account; Ewan created a facebook and tumblr account for him, though he leaves most of the posting to Louis himself. He definitely has not told Ewan about his tumblr for lurking, or the A03 account he made in 2011. 

He’s not posted anywhere near as much as he’s written, and he also doesn’t read that much anymore. But he’s got a nice little buildup of comments that he needs to respond to, so he does, thanking them for reading and answering any questions posed. He then scrolls through his fics, all twenty of them: four character pieces for _‘til I Change My Luck_ , three alternate universe endings for _Changeling_ , his mini-series ‘how it might go’ for _Fortress_ (the one he got flamed for), two completely crazy crossovers for Harry Potter/Star Wars (Luna is the most awesome jedi ever, FYI), and a heart-wrenching 20,000 word fic for Highlander and how the Game might end (badly, of course, though Methos wins). 

The only new comment on “In the After,” the Highlander fic, goes into detail about how wonderful it is with specific lines **hairygems** thinks are perfect, and then asks, _Would you ever consider writing a Highlander crossover with Bloodfall?_ which had honestly not occurred to Louis before. He quickly adds that to his Idea File and replies before posting the newly-titled “Regretless,” which isn’t much better than “Red Rain,” if he’s honest. It’ll do, though. 

He thought long and hard before moving his in-joke author’s note from the _Ascendancy_ epilogue to “Regretless,” but he finally did because it was sort of an apology. So “Regretless” is dedicated to _H with the curls, who perhaps had the right of it about Bloodfall_. 

He breaks for dinner and baking reruns, showers, tidies up the flat a bit, and then at midnight, posts “A Year With Zombies,” all twelve chapters. 

Louis falls into bed feeling more accomplished than he did when he sent in the script and final draft, but drifts off before he can worry about it. 

.

He’s already promised to begin considering what his next book should be, so he calls Ewan midmorning on Sunday and reads through the most likely options from his Idea File so they can discuss. 

“Louis,” Ewan finally says, “you’re supposed to be on vacation. The deadline for your next book isn’t until late next year, so can you at least take the rest of this month off from everything but the show?” 

“Did you hear Taylor’s newest name?” Louis asks scathingly. “ _Visitors_. Did she even read the books? The script? They’re not visitors if they stay!” 

Ewan laughs. “Right, Louis. Look, take a break, yeah? I know how stressed you were, tryin’ to finish everything. Watch everything you’ve missed, catch up with your mates, go on walks. Let your mind rest, yeah?” 

“Fine,” Louis sighs. He’s been browsing the fan artists but not reading much of the fic for _Fortress_ , so maybe he’ll do that this week. It should be a laugh. 

.

He takes to staying up late and sleeping in, eating maybe one full meal a day, reading his way through everything A03 has about any of his books. The majority is _Fortress_ , of course, and some of it is so intricate it’s dizzying. He leaves comments sparingly, only when completely impressed, and tries not to be too nitpicky about things, even in his own head. He only bookmarks the absolute best of the best. 

There’s one he finds that’s fascinating, though unfortunately unfinished, about Jem Marcela from _'til I Change My Luck_ being dropped into Parabin because magic, and it’s nearly 100,000 words in three chapters. It’s like Jem left Louis’ book for this fic, it’s so perfectly characterized. According to the final author’s note, the author (why does **hairygems** sound familiar?) couldn’t continue after _Exodus_ came out because what was revealed about Qin would’ve have affected the intended development for Madria. 

Of course, Louis reads everything else this **hairygems** posted: a dozen drabbles in varying fandoms and a healthy collection of fanart for _Bloodfall_ and _Fortress_ , and then explores her (his? their?) bookmarks, finding his own stories as the most recently saved. 

“You’re the one who wants Methos to meet Cora,” he muses, chuckling slightly, flipping back to the tab that has an exquisitely-drawn Cora surveying her territory (which includes Ronnie beheading a few zombies in the distance, and looking appropriately annoyed about it). He’s already bookmarked it, of course, and saved it to his fanart file. He’s consistently amazed at the talent his fans possess. 

His mobile beeps at him, reminding him to eat something; there’s another set for fifteen minutes later, reminding him to shower. The one set for half an hour after that is to remind him to go to bed because it’s Friday and he needs to get back on a reasonable schedule for work. 

“Fine,” he mutters, shuffling into the kitchen. 

.

On Saturday, he wakes up bright and early, eats a somewhat healthy breakfast, and decides to go for a walk, explore the neighborhood as he hasn’t since the last time the girls (and Ernie) visited. He picks up a few trinkets he thinks the girls would like, a scarf for Mum, a book titled _Desserts from Around the World_ for Ernie. He buys lunch from a food truck and keeps meandering on. He chats with people, offers directions to a few lost tourists, signs a couple autographs though thankfully his fame has not (and hopefully never will) reached JK Rowling or George RR Martin’s, and most people wouldn’t recognize him anyway. Mid-afternoon, he turns around to find his way home, where he sits down to catch up on the shows he’s been putting off and eats the takeaway he’d picked up for dinner. 

On Sunday, he prepares for the next day’s meeting by reviewing the things Nick’s been emailing him: a nearly finalized cast, most of whom have accepted the offered roles; director suggestions for all 9 episodes (and he makes a note of the arsewipe he will _**not**_ let near his show; and the schedule for all promo Louis will be part of. He agrees with most of the cast, though some of them seem a bit… well, young. He makes another note to bring that up in the meeting. 

Before going to bed, he checks his fanfiction email and sees that **hairygems** has commented on both of his newest stories; he doesn’t reply, yet, but he’s sure that’s why the only dream he remembers from that night is him and curly-Harry from the convention fighting zombies. 

.

On Monday, he slips into Nick’s car at 11:55 to give Nick a nervous smile. “Hullo,” he says, messing with his fringe. 

“Have a good holiday?” Nick asks. “Any thoughts on where to go for lunch?” 

“I did, yeah,” Louis answers. “And, um, I don’t care about lunch.” 

“Right then,” Nick says. “How about kebabs?” 

. 

The meeting is to narrow down what’s left of the casting, decide on directors, and make any last revisions to the shooting script. Louis sits down beside Nick, who he feels is his only ally even with the slight tension due to that incident they haven’t talked about. 

“Louis, hi!” Taylor says, her accent just a little grating on his name. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it has,” he agrees. “So, I went over everything and I have a few… concerns?” He looks from Taylor to her minions, who she still hasn’t introduced. 

“Concerns?” she repeats, leaning back in her chair, still smiling. “Well, Louis, don’t leave me in suspense. I want to do everything I can so that _Sky Reign_ is the best show of the season.” 

“ _Sky Reign_ ,” he echoes faintly. “Is that what we’re callin’ it now?” It is better than _Visitors_ , he allows. “Anyway,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “The age of the cast. They’re all a little young, aren’t they?” 

One of the minions, a generically handsome man about Nick’s age, scoffs. 

“I don’t think they’re too young, no,” Taylor says. “What else is bothering you, Louis?” 

So, they won’t be discussing that this meeting, then. Fine. There’s still time. “Moving right along,” he says. “The directors. Nicolo Festa is a halfwit and I don’t want him anywhere near the show.” 

Taylor blinks at him while the generically-pretty woman to her left coughs, bringing a hand up to her mouth. “Nicolo is a darling,” Taylor says after a moment. “He’s one of the two we’re considering for the finale.” 

“Well, he’s a terrible choice,” Louis tells her, prepared to be exactly as difficult as he needs to be about this. “Whether you personally like him or not, have you ever watched his work? It’s awful.” 

Taylor looks at him for a long moment; all the minions and Nick remain silent and still, like they’re afraid of drawing her attention. “So,” Taylor says slowly, “that’s a no for Nicolo Festa, then. Anything else, Louis?” 

Nick makes a note on his ipad. Louis glances at him in time to catch the smile. 

“That’s everything,” Louis says. 

“Awesome!” Taylor’s smile is back. “Well, we have a lot to do, but we have another meeting for May 10th, right?” 

Louis nods. 

“Awesome,” she repeats. “You can see yourself out, right? I’ve got something Nick needs to do.” 

Smiling as sweetly as he can, Louis says, “Of course, Taylor.” He stands, clapping Nick on the shoulder. “You’ll be in touch?” 

“Of course,” Nick says, a little apologetically. 

Louis waves at everyone but doesn’t bother saying goodbye. 

.

He remembers when he used to be so bright, so charming, the life of the party, eager for everyone’s attention. He’d reclaimed some of it, in the months after he walked out of Martin’s flat with only his laptop and the clothes on his back. He’d gone to Liam, sure that Liam would turn him away but instead Liam opened the door and caught him as he collapsed in tears. Liam had put him to bed, tucked him in, and gotten together a few of the lads to go fetch Louis’ belongings from the flat that never felt like his. 

Once, he hadn’t felt any nerves about digging in his heels and arguing circles around someone until he got his way. He lost that, somewhere, but he can pull it on like a cloak, sometimes, and pretend he’s still that loud, laughing boy. It never lasts, though. 

(He knows where he lost it, and when, and why. There’s a reason Liam doesn’t like thinking about the months Louis cut him out.) 

After he leaves the meeting about _Sky Reign_ (and are they ever gonna stop changing the name?), he takes the stairs to the ground floor and decides to stop in the loo before finding a way home, since Nick was his ride and all. 

As he’s washing his hands and trying to figure out if he should ride the Tube or get a taxi, a man practically trips through the door and almost hits the floor, catching himself at the last possible second. 

“Oops,” the guy mutters, staying hunched over for a moment before straightening up, his hair long enough that it covers his face. 

“You alright there?” Louis asks, biting his bottom lip so he doesn’t laugh. 

“Yeah, ’m’fine,” the guy says, flicking his head so his hair flies out his face—a face that’s oddly familiar. When he looks at Louis, his eyes widen and he freezes. “Louis Tomlinson,” he breathes. 

“Um, yeah?” Louis says, looking down to make sure there’s nothing on his person causing that reaction, like a creepy bug or something. 

The guy ducks his head, which makes his hair bounce, and it hits Louis like a football to the face: _Harry with the curls_. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry with the curls says, looking back up. “Um, I’m part of the design team for Vi—sorry, _Sky Reign_ , and you’re my favorite author, I’m not sure if you remember—”

“Last October,” Louis says. “Harold who doesn’t write fanfiction?” 

Harry nods, flushing slightly. “You’ve met Caroline Watson?” he asks. Louis nods. “I’m her assistant, see, and I was s’posed to be in a meeting, but my sister—anyway, hi.”

“Hi,” Louis replies, again trying not to laugh. Harry is just as beautiful as Louis remembered, which he’d been fair sure had been him idealizing the man. “Are you hair or makeup?” he asks. 

“Costume,” Harry says. He’s fidgeting with his curls, which is more manelike than Louis remembers it being. Though, of course, it had been up, hadn’t it? So maybe he’s wrong. “Um.” He glances towards the urinals. 

“Oh, right, sorry,” Louis exclaims, feeling himself blush. “I’ll see you later, I suppose?” 

Harry nods, dimpling slightly, and Louis leaves the toilet as quickly as he can, waiting ‘til he’s out of the building entirely to lean against the wall and laugh. 

.

He falls into another routine for a couple of weeks: he walks and freewrites in the morning, either at the flat or in coffee shops, then writes actual letters to Mum, the girls, and Ernie to be snail mailed in the afternoon—just little things, to make them laugh and smile, to remind them how much he loves them. He doesn’t tell any of them but knows when the first arrives because Mum calls him crying, which hadn’t been his intention. 

He checks his work email once a day, at lunchtime, and replies as needed. Nick is sending daily reports, and every day, they’re slightly more jokey, slightly more flirty. Louis is relieved that Nick is acting normal again. 

In the early evenings, he visits with Niall or Liam, whichever is available, or a few of the other lads. He’s never been as close to them as Niall and Liam but they’re good for a laugh and a pint. 

In the late evenings, he looks over what he’d written that morning. Most of it is just stream of consciousness babble, not really that useable for anything. Some of the babble is about Martin, about those years he hasn’t discussed with anyone. Mum had recommended therapy, after; Louis wrote _Changeling_ instead. About half is incomplete poetry verses, and every evening, he goes back to the Word file he has for all of them because he wants to fix it, he just hasn’t figured out how yet. 

He’s usually in bed by eleven, though he’s never sure how long he lies awake, staring at the ceiling, before he actually falls asleep. 

Louis wakes up at eight in the morning and does it all again.

.

On the first of May, instead of his alarm, Louis wakes to his mobile ringing. It’s clearly too early to be alive if his alarm hasn’t gone off yet but he just grumbles and grabs it, answering without looking at the screen. “’ullo?” he mutters, burying his face in the pillow.

“Lou?” he hears—Daisy, crying. 

He’s instantly wide awake and sits up. “Petal, what’s wrong?” he asks gently, the hand not holding the mobile clenching. “Is everyone alright?” 

“Yeah, everyone’s fine, sorry,” she mumbles, chuckling a little watery. “Just… I was looking at my drafts this mornin’, for the festival, and it’s… it’s not as good as anyone else’s but everyone’s gonna be lookin’ at it.” She sobs and his heart hurts. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I promise your piece is amazin’,” he says. “You’re talented, Daisy, so fuckin’ talented. They’re lucky to have your art, I promise.” 

“You have to say that,” she tearfully laughs. “M’big brother and all.” 

“That doesn’t make it not true,” he says. “I’ll be comin’ home the Friday before it starts, yeah? You’re gonna smash it, Petal, honest you are. Is anyone else up?” 

He’s three hours away and even if he jumped in the car right now—

“I hear Dan downstairs,” she says, sounding a little calmer. “I want Mum, though.” 

“So go to her,” Louis says. “I promise she won’t be angry. You’re hurtin’, she’ll want to know.” He learned that the hard way.

“Okay, Lou,” she whispers. He listens to her breathe for a few moments and then she says, “I love you. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Love you, too,” he says. “Go to Mum.” 

“I will,” she says, sounding the least-teary she has since he answered the call. “Thanks, Louis.” 

“Call me anytime you need me,” he tells her. “I’ll see you in a couple weeks.” 

Once she hangs up, he checks the time: barely half six. He wonders how long she’d been working herself into a panic but shakes himself out of the thoughts that won’t do him any good. 

There’s very little chance he’ll be able to fall back asleep soon enough to be worth it, so he decides to just go ahead and get an early start to the day. 

.

He decides to make a day of it and act like a tourist in London for the first time, so he eats a quick breakfast and then catches a train to the heart of the city. He wanders, taking pictures of whatever catches his attention with his mobile and snapchatting or instagraming them if they’re particularly interesting. 

He realizes he’s near Nick’s office when it’s approaching lunchtime and he’s hungry, and he thinks about dropping in—but it’s the weekend, after all, not a day for work. So instead he salutes the building and heads for the nearest Marks&Spencer because Liam told him about this sandwich that was the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life. (Which is ridiculous, because Louis **_has_** had dinner at Liam’s house and his mum is actually a better cook than Louis’ own mum, not that he’s ever told Mum that.) 

It’s crowded, of course, being lunchtime on a Sunday, but he does finally track down what he thinks is the right sandwich. Just as he’s about to swoop in and grab the last one, someone else beats him to it, which is something that Louis thought only happened in shows and over-dramatic books. 

“That’s mine,” he announces, already glaring as he looks up at—

“Louis?” 

—Harry with the curls, of course. Of course. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been sent on a run for lunch,” Harry says, holding out the sandwich. “Anna is quite particular, you know? But here, if you want it.” He dimples sweetly, most of his hair in a bun. The curls that are free look extra-springy today. 

“My mate told me about this wondrous sandwich,” he explains, reaching out to take it. “I have to test it, so I can mock him if he’s wrong.” 

“Of course you do,” Harry agrees. He’s somehow holding what looks like an entire banquet’s worth of sandwiches. It’s far more impressive than it should be, so Louis looks away from his not-at-all gorgeous hands and the tattoos trailing up his left arm. “What are you up to today?” 

“’m’a tourist,” Louis says, falling into step with Harry as they head for the tills. There’s already a terrible queue, of course, but Louis isn’t in any rush. “This is my last week before things pick up for the show, so I’m still looking for ways to waste time. Feel like I’m back in uni.” 

Harry _**giggles**_. Louis has to look away in order to regain control of his expression, which he felt practically dripping with fondness, like Harry’s a kitten or something. Ridiculous. “What have you done already?” 

Louis looks back at him. “Well, I’ve been writing things, and going on pointless walks, and reading and catching up on my shows, going out with my mates. You know—holiday stuff.” He shrugs. 

Harry lights up. “You’ve been writing? Can you tell me anything about it?” 

“Nothin’ that good,” Louis says. Harry’s still smiling at him so Louis adds, “I reread _Bloodfall_. It was better than I remembered.” 

Somehow, Harry’s smile gets even bigger, like he’s a human sunbeam. It should hurt to look at him but Louis can’t look away. In order to keep that smile, Louis continues, “And I might have an idea for somethin’ else, like, inspired by it, maybe.” 

“That’s wonderful!” Harry exclaims. “I have to get all this back,” he says, sounding a little put-out about it, “before the team starts eatin’ each other, but I’d love to talk about your writing and just, things in general, you know, if you want? Sometime?” 

“You’re babbling, Harold,” Louis says, more endeared than he’d been since that afternoon Ernie decided to cuddle all of the neighbor’s kittens at the same time. There’s butterflies in his belly. He wants to tug on Harry’s curls, kiss his dimples. It’s completely mad—he can’t recall ever feeling like this before. 

“Right, sorry.” Harry closes his eyes, inhales, exhales, and then opens his eyes again to look at Louis. “Louis, I’d love to get coffee with you sometime. What do you think?” 

There’s only one person left in front of Harry in the queue. “I think I’d enjoy that,” Louis says. Then he realizes—“Wait, it’s Sunday. What are you lot doin’ at the office?” 

Harry shrugs, grinning. “It’s my turn,” he says, nodding towards the tills. “What’s your favorite coffee shop in town?”

Louis names the shop nearest his apartment, where the tea is usually almost always right. 

“Half six tonight?” Harry asks, stepping toward the till. 

“I’ll be there,” Louis answers. 

Harry spins on his heel and hurries away, dumping everything onto the counter. Louis resolutely goes back to waiting for the next opening. 

It surely isn’t a date, he tells himself, ignoring the nerves. What he’d told Nick is still true: Louis is not looking for anything, whether serious or not. He isn’t built for friends with benefits or one night stands, and he isn’t ready for a relationship. He can’t go through all that shit again. 

But he can chat with a fan, or discuss ideas with a friend, and while Harry is the former for now, he’s also soon to be a coworker, and Louis finds him interesting enough that sliding into a friendship might be easy. 

He hurries to his own till, catching Harry’s eye as he rushes out the store, arms full of bags, and Harry mouths, _Half six_ , so Louis nods. 

He takes his sandwich to a nearby park and determinably avoids thinking about anything related to relationships or romance for the rest of the afternoon. 

.

It’s ridiculous and he knows it, especially since he never makes an effort to look good for the lads, but Louis spends nearly an hour getting ready for the meeting with Harry. He tears his way through his clothes for something suitable, and nearly calls Lottie or Liam for advice—but Liam would just get into a row with him over it, and he’s not ready for anyone in the family to know. 

Besides, he and Harry are just soon-to-be colleagues getting coffee together. 

With that in mind, he pulls on one of his nicer band shirts from his uni days and a pair of trousers, grabs his current notebook, and almost forgets to put on his shoes in his rush out the door. He’s always late for everything but he definitely doesn’t want to be late—to meet a friend for coffee, he reminds himself. Or, an almost friend. A _**colleague**_. 

“For fuck’s sake, Lou,” he mutters as he locks the door. “So he’s pretty, what of it? Get a hold of yourself.” He nods firmly, pep talk finished, and takes his time on the way to the shop. 

.

Because Harry is clearly a fever hallucination brought on by too many Disney marathons with Ernie, he’s already gotten them a table and a sample of the pastries. 

“Hi!” he says with a small wave and a beaming smile. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got one of everything.” He’s unfairly gorgeous, of course, his dark curls down in cascading waves, contrasting quite nicely with the floral top he’s got on. 

“If you’re hopin’ to distract me, it won’t work,” Louis says haughtily, making sure to sit prim and proper, chin tilted just so. “I shall have my answers, Harold, and I shan’t be dissuaded.” 

He feels almost like that brilliant, idiot boy who first went to uni, who knew he’d take the world by storm. If he’d met Harry then—

Harry ducks his head, trying to hide his face with one of his hands, but when he straightens back up, he solemnly says, “Whatever you do to me, I won’t talk.” 

Louis laughs, loud and sharp, and it feels like it was punched out of him. Harry starts laughing, too, and once they gain control of themselves, the conversation never flags, however they jump from topic to topic. 

(And he does get his answers: Taylor had decided to discard a major part of the chosen designs late Friday and in order to actually have everything for Tuesday, the majority of the team had to come in over the weekend. Harry volunteered so that the two with young children wouldn’t have to sacrifice all of their weekend because he is an actual saint.) 

Harry shares pictures of his new niece, Joanna, so of course then Louis has to ramble on about his mum and siblings (“She’s Johannah, too!” he says, pulling out his mobile to share pictures of his own), and from there they move on to uni, Louis’ books and how Harry met Lou (“Teasdale,” he adds, “remember from the meeting I wasn’t at?”) at a tattoo shop, that she brought him to work and showed him around, and everything fell into place, and Harry listens wide-eyed as Louis complains about the way _Fortress_ just kept growing and the stories that never went anywhere. 

He spends hours listening to Harry, being listened to, letting Harry’s drawl wash over him. They’re fast friends, the fastest he’s ever made, and it would frighten him, if he let it. He knows that when he was younger, he’d have grabbed on and never let go, made sure the world knew Harry of the curls belonged to him and him alone. 

But he’s not that boy anymore. 

Finally, when it’s nearing time for the shop to close, Louis asks, “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” 

“Shit, I do,” Harry says, nearly pouting. “I wanted—d’you want to maybe get dinner? This week, I mean?” 

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” Louis says. 

“Would you…” Harry ducks his head, curls falling into his face. “I’d meant to talk about _Bloodfall_. It just…” He peers up, biting on his lip. “I really needed it, when I found it.” 

“Of course,” Louis says. “My schedule is wide open this week. I’ll have all sorts of meetings and promo things starting next week, though.” 

“So, what about Tuesday?” Harry flips his curls back behind his shoulder, starting to smile again. “Or Wednesday, if that’d be better. I live not too far from here—do you know that Thai place?” 

“Of course.” Louis pulls out his mobile. “What’s your number?” Once he’s keyed it in, he hesitates, slowly glancing up to Harry’s patient expression. 

“Text me a good time, Louis,” he says, smiling again. “Thank you for meeting me tonight.” He stands and gathers their accumulated mess while Louis tries not to stare at him. 

“Wednesday,” Louis says when he just can’t stand the silence anymore. “Wednesday at 7.” 

“I’ll be there,” Harry says. 

Louis refuses to call what he does _fleeing_. 

.

That night, he writes feverishly, nearly a dozen half-finished poems, none of which make sense in the morning. 

He saves them anyway. 

.

Monday is for sleeping, and then cleaning the flat until it’s all nice and shiny. That afternoon, he answers the backlog of emails for his fun account and then logs into the tumblr and facebook for Louis Tomlinson, Author in order to answer any outstanding messages for those, and then he tweets something suitably cryptic. When he’s finished, he finds himself scrolling through the photos of the girls and Ernie he has saved on his laptop. 

For the first time in a long time, Louis wants to look at the photographs he took during his years with Martin. Toward the end, he'd halfway planned to print everything out for a photo album, a romantic gesture meant to repair what was already broken—but Martin hadn't ever done anything romantic once Louis moved in, six months after they met. For Louis, who wanted to surprise his partner with flowers and presents at any time, who daydreamed about getaways and serenades, it was a warning sign he missed.

All the pictures are on a USB he tucked away somewhere out of sight ages ago, so he spends the late afternoon looking for where that might be. He finally finds it when his belly is demanding food, so he sets it on the countertop while he scrounges for something and then stares at it while eating. Finally, when putting it off any longer just seems pointless, he grabs it and his laptop and goes to huddle under his covers. 

“This is probably a bad idea,” he murmurs, opening up the folder. 

Four and a half years in barely 100 photographs. He scrolls through them, gaze skipping over Martin—who always looks bored, Louis notes distantly. He’d been so sweet when they first met in Louis’ required science credit, Biology, and he offered to tutor Louis. He’d been funny and charming and those first few months flew by so quickly Louis’ head had whirled. 

Barely 100 photographs. 

He deletes them one by one, removes the USB, closes the laptop, and leans back against the headboard, resting his face in his hands. “It is what it is,” he murmurs into his palms. Martin is nothing but a memory and it’s time he stopped letting a memory haunt him.

He slides down enough to curl up under the blanket and unlocks his mobile, scrolling through his contacts to _H with the curls_. He stares at the number, finger poised to press for what surely must be an eternity—and then the screen begins to darken so he chuckles at the message the universe is sending him and lets the mobile fall onto the bed beside him. “I’m getting dramatic in my old age,” he mutters, throwing the blanket off. 

It’s after 10 but he showers anyway, water as hot as he can stand it. He then puts Grease on and goes back to the poems he began last night as well as the freewrite poems from the week before, determined to finish at least one of them. 

He’s finished five by the time he collapses into bed, near sunrise, and he sleeps until well into the afternoon. 

.

Ewan’s call wakes him up, not that he gets up in time to actually answer it. He listens to Ewan’s voicemail (the book will be sent back soon with notes, Ewan’s boss has a meeting with Taylor early Wednesday, Ewan wants to schedule a meeting to discuss Louis’ next book for some point in mid-June, Ewan will be by Wednesday to discuss the required promo) and then lets the mobile fall into his pile of blankets. He nearly drifts off again but there’s a pressing need building in his bladder, so he sighs and rolls out of bed. 

He decides to take it easy for the afternoon, so he puts the DVR on his favorite footie match and goes back through his A03 bookmarks, leaving comments with specific quotes or praise for his favorite part. 

By the time Liam calls to ask if Louis wants to go to his for FIFA, it’s not long ‘til dinnertime and Louis realizes he hasn’t eaten. He’s also not at all hungry, which he doesn’t mention when Liam offers food. Liam’s a worrywart, anyway. 

. 

Wednesday, Louis wakes up early with butterflies in his belly. “It’s not a date,” he assures the ceiling. “It’s _**not**_ ,” he tells his reflection as he’s washing his hands. 

Because the butterflies haven’t settled, Louis decides to go for a run. 

.

Louis makes it home about five minutes before Ewan arrives with the list of approved questions, blacklisted topics, and what Louis must somehow work into each interview. Louis takes extensive notes, and then, when Ewan asks, gives his honest opinion on how Taylor is crafting the show. 

“Please don’t let her know that,” Ewan sighs. 

Louis shrugs. “We have a meeting on Tuesday to finalize everything, so I’ll see how that goes.” 

Ewan sighs again, heavier this time. “Does the fourteenth of June work for you?” 

.

After a quick shower and a brief brunch, Louis sets about distracting himself by going through his oldest younger sisters’ instragrams and then scrolling through his dash on his lurker tumblr. Somehow, most of the day manages to pass and he accomplishes absolutely nothing of note, but then it’s half four and he takes another shower so that he can start to get ready. 

“It’s not a date,” he informs his reflection. 

Thankfully, his reflection does not respond. 

.

Louis leaves early this time, determined to not be late. It’s not crowded, so he’s able to grab a table immediately and then texts Harry, _in the room to the left, back corner_. 

Harry replies, _Five minutes away!_ and all the butterflies Louis had managed to exterminate are resurrected. 

.

Louis’ wearing the red shirt that Lottie bought him for his birthday last year because it isn’t too formal but also isn’t too casual and his nicest pair of jeans, but he feels completely underdressed when Harry walks in, looking like he just strode off a runway somewhere. “Hi!” Harry says, dropping into the seat across from him while Louis is still gaping in wonder. 

“Hi,” Louis finally manages. “Um, have you been here before?” 

Harry nods, that ever-present smile on his face. “I knew what I wanted when I got up this morning, so I’ll be ready whenever you are.” 

“Well, I know, too,” Louis says. “I always get the same thing, anyway.” 

.

Once their orders are in, Louis asks, “So, how was work today?” 

Harry scoffs. “Apparently, we’ve been going in entirely the wrong direction or some rot like that.” Then his eyes widen in panic and Louis snickers as Harry backpedals, “I mean, I’m sure everything is wonderful because it’s your vision and all.” 

“It’s not my vision,” Louis says. “But I’ve a meeting with Taylor next week, so let’s just table everything about the show—” He pauses, brow furrowing, and then asks, “Is it still _Sky Reign_?” 

Harry nods. “Far as I know.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “So,” he begins again, “let’s table everything about _Sky Reign_ for the moment.” He nods toward Harry’s hand, resting on the table. “Tell me about your tattoos instead,” he says, because there’s just a hint of something twining around Harry’s wrist that disappears into his sleeve and he remembers that there are dozens. 

“They’re not that interestin’,” Harry says, bringing his right hand up to cover his left. “Um, I got my mum and sister’s initials on my shoulders, my parents’ birthdays.” 

“You said you met Lou Teasdale in a tattoo shop?” Louis asks. 

Harry nods. “I was there, um, because I needed to do something… wild, I guess,” Harry says. “I’d just…” He stops and looks away, brings his hands to his mouth, and just as Louis is about to change the subject, Harry says, “I was about to drop out of uni and go home when I found _Bloodfall_ in a rummage sale.” Louis leans back in his chair, nodding to show his attention, and Harry continues, “I started reading it on the tube back to my dorm, and I couldn’t stop. I was 20 and hated everything about my life, thought I had ruined everything by doing law when I wanted to just design things, you know?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “But law would mean a career and what use is design if you don’t have connections?” 

“Is that your parents talking?” Louis asks while Harry fidgets with the tableware.

“No, a counselor,” Harry says. “Mum was so surprised when I went for pre-law. She asked me why and it _was_ interesting, at the start. But after the first year, I was just… miserable.” He sighs and then gulps down half his glass of water. “I hated going to class, and I hated studying, and I hated getting up in the morning. There were days when I just stayed in bed, hoping whatever was wrong would fix itself.” He pauses, eyes darting to Louis. “I… I’m sorry for just dumping this all on you. If you’re uncomfortable—”

“It’s fine,” Louis tells him. “Honest.” 

Harry tries to smile but it falls and he looks back at his hands. “So, I found _Bloodfall_. And just… Demara.” 

Louis laughs, shocked. “I had completely forgotten her until I reread it recently,” he admits. “But I think, after Madria, she might be my favorite.” 

Nodding, Harry’s lips quirk, almost a smile. “I was sitting there on my tiny bed in the dorm, so tired I could barely think, and I read, ‘You are alive, you fool, so there’s hope yet.’ I mean, I know she was technically the bad guy—”

“Antagonist,” Louis interjects, “not necessarily a villain.” There were no heroes in that book, anyway. 

“— _Antagonist_ ,” Harry corrects, “my apologies.” But there’s a smile playing around in the corner of his mouth, now, so Louis counts that a win. “Anyway, she has this epic speech for Theo, right, and I could probably quote the whole thing. And even though he’s mostly dead, being a zombie and all, those words… even though it was nearly midnight, I called Mum and I confessed everything.” He meets Louis’ eyes and then slowly rolls up his left sleeve. “So that day I met Lou at her husband’s tattoo parlor, I was getting this.” 

He holds his arm out and Louis sees, scrawled on his inner arm from his elbow to his wrist, _You are alive, you fool, so there’s hope yet_. 

“I’m glad I wrote it,” Louis says, pressing his fingers into the table so that he doesn’t trace the ink along Harry’s skin. 

Harry rolls the sleeve back down. “So, of course, I dropped out of my program, and then uni entirely.” He picks up his glass and just swishes the water around a little. “Went back home for a few weeks, tracked down everything you’d written at the time. _From the Sky_ had just come out.” 

2011, then. Louis nods, first to Harry and then to their server offering to top up their glasses. “Thanks,” he murmurs and the girl smiles before disappearing again. “Is there anything you’d like to ask about the book?” he asks Harry. 

“No,” Harry says, leaning back in his chair. “I just wanted to tell you how much it meant to me.” He hesitates, his right hand going to his side and then he bites his lip, chuckling slightly. “Um, do you remember when Demara and Cora get into that epic argument, while Theo is trying to kill Ronnie?” 

“I do,” Louis says slowly, resting his chin on his clasped hands and raising an eyebrow. “Why, Harold?” 

Harry laughs, shaking his head again. “You had Cora say, oh the exact quote escapes me, but it was something like, ‘He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot, so fuck off,’ right?” He meets Louis’ gaze so Louis nods. “And then Demara shot back, ‘And what about when he destroys what’s left of this broken husk, what then?’ And—” Harry begins giggling too hard to continue. 

“And I had Cora answer, ‘Then I’ll help him, what do you care? You’re a goddamned zombie.’” Louis brings his hand to his mouth to contain his own giggles as Harry slowly regains control. 

“Yeah, so I, um.” Harry snickers into his hand before settling. “So, I got that tattooed on my side.” 

Louis blinks, tilting his head. “You got what tattooed on your side?” 

Harry sighs, grinning. “‘I’ll help him, what do you care? You’re a goddamned zombie.’” 

“Shut up, you did not,” Louis exclaims. 

Harry nods. “I did. Mum was… not best pleased with that one.” 

“Oh my god, that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard!” Louis crows, nearly falling out of his chair as he laughs. By the time he’s finally settled back in his chair and caught his breath, their server is approaching with their meals, so once he’s thanked her, he asks Harry, “Tell me about the rest while we eat, please? If you want to, I mean.” 

“Okay,” Harry says softly. 

.

It’s almost 11 by the time they leave and it’s just mad, how easily conversation flows between them. It doesn’t matter what Harry’s talking about, Louis wants to listen, and it honestly seems that Harry feels the same about Louis, even when he’s rambling on about how Ernie is the coolest little brother anyone could have or how he’s fairly sure Daisy has done art for _Fortress_.

“You know,” Louis admits as they’re about to go their separate ways, their flats being in opposite directions, “I think I might want a tattoo. It’s odd, I’ve never thought that before.”

“Of what?” Harry asks, stepping back in. 

“‘It is what it is’, maybe,” Louis muses. “That seems a bit much, though. I’ll think on it.” 

Harry blurts, “Would you want to get coffee again, sometime, or lunch or dinner?” and then looks properly mortified at himself. 

“What about breakfast?” Louis asks, teasingly. “Saturday, say?” 

Harry grins, bright and wide. “I know a café. I’ll text you.” 

As he watches Harry walk away, Louis murmurs, “Fuck, it was a date.”

.

On Thursday, Louis calls his mum while he’s frying up an egg for breakfast and asks, “Mum, what d’ya think of me gettin’ a tattoo?” 

By the time he hangs up three hours later, Mum’s gotten the full story out of him and she’s cautiously optimistic, even though he protests, “I’m not even sure he’s actually attracted to me!” 

Mum just laughs and says, “Boobear, if what you’ve told me is even half accurate, he’s attracted to you.” 

She had to go not long after that and since Louis couldn’t think of anything else to do (and didn’t feel like writing or watching anything), he decided to go kill time at a nearby park, where he settled against a tree and scrolled through tattoo options. 

He’d always thought they were silly at best and somewhat ugly at worst, but Liam actually got a couple, the first during those awful months they weren’t talking and the second about a year after Louis left Martin. He occasionally talks about getting another, and Louis always gives him a hard time for it. 

_What would you recommend for a first tattoo?_ Louis texts him. 

It shouldn’t surprise him that Liam calls him immediately after, despite supposedly being at work. 

“You’re serious,” Liam says as soon as Louis answers. “You only spell everything out with proper punctuation when you’re serious.” 

“Thank you for that lesson on how I text, Lima,” Louis says as snottily as he can. “Aren’t you meant to be working?” 

“Lou, you’ve taken the piss out of me about my tattoos for literal _years_ ,” Liam says, all reasonable like. “Forgive me for being… confused.” 

Louis sighs as noisily as he can. “You may have a point,” he admits. “Anyway. Thoughts on a first tattoo?” 

Because Liam is a much better friend than he’s ever deserved, he gives it actual consideration and then suggests, “Something small and simple. Easily hidden or removed if you don’t like it.” 

“Do you think it should represent somethin’ important?” Louis asks.

“Do you want it to?” Liam asks in reply, then, “Hold on,” and there’s some muffled shouting. “I’ve gotta go,” Liam says. “Do _not_ get a tattoo before talkin’ to me again, okay?” and he’s gone before Louis can respond. 

Louis stays at the park until the late afternoon, people-watching. A few phrases come to him, ideas for either poetry or prose, he isn’t sure, so he types those into his notes. Lottie calls as he’s leaving, and when he answers, she screeches through the line, “You’re getting a tattoo?!” 

.

Lottie makes him promise to not get a tattoo without telling her beforehand, which is an easy promise to make as he’s most likely not going to get a tattoo anyway. 

When he’s back home, he transfers the ideas to the proper file and throws together something edible for dinner before stretching out on the sofa to either catch up on _Game of Thrones_ or watch the _Harry Potter_ film marathon. He finally settles on the marathon because he feels the need for a happy ending. 

Dumbledore is battling Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries when Louis’ mobile chirps so he mutes the telly, checks the screen, and answers with a wide grin. “James Corden! How’ve you been, mate?” 

“Louis, my darling,” James says warmly, “please tell me you’re available for dinner tomorrow? Max and Carey are just dying to catch up with you.” 

“And what of the lovely Julia?” Louis asks with a laugh. 

“Oh, she’ll be there, too, of course—be prepared, though,” he adds seriously, “because she’s going to demand information on this book series she thinks you know something about. What’s it called? Hmm…” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about books, James,” Louis says. 

“Oh, right, Palaces!” James shouts. “There are aliens or something.” 

Louis cackles embarrassingly loudly while James giggles on the other end. “You’re in town, then?” he asks once he’s caught his breath. 

“Yeah, for a visit to our families,” James says. “My people will be in touch with yours for an interview later this year, once more is known about the BBC production.” 

“Well, that’ll be fun.” Louis leans back on the sofa. “Where is this dinner, then? I’m not a cheap date, as you know.” 

James sighs heavily. “Well, alas, the children made their request before you, and our meal is at, drum roll please…” Louis rolls his eyes and makes the noise. James gleefully shouts, “Sticky Fingers!” 

“Well,” Louis says with a huff, “I guess that’ll do.” 

“Good, good. Oh, hold on,” and everything is muffled before James says, “We’ll be by tomorrow around half five. Love you, Lou!” and he’s gone. 

Louis unmutes the telly just in time for what would’ve been Harry’s tantrum in Dumbledore’s office, were the movie more faithful. He lets the film play out, then starts the next one, dozing throughout most of it. He wakes up in time for Harry to save Draco from the fiendfyre and turns the telly off so that he can stumble to his bed. 

. 

Friday morning, he rereads the epilogue he wrote for _Ascendancy_ , tidies up the flat a bit, tweets a joke to James, emails Nick to ask if he needs to prepare anything for the meeting on Tuesday, and wonders how on earth he used to fill up all his time. 

“Oh, right,” he mutters. He wrote nearly 16 hours a day, or he procrastinated while still writing, just not what he was supposed to be writing. 

He picks a book at random off the shelf, curls up in the comfy chair, and doesn’t move except to stretch and rearrange himself until the doorbell rings. 

.

Carey hangs back beside Julia but Max runs over shouting, “Louis!” and Louis swoops him up the way Ernie and Dorie are too big to do now. 

“Max a million,” he says, twirling Max around. “You’ve gotten so big!” 

“They seem to do that,” James says sadly. 

Julia’s crouched down to murmur something to Carey, so after a few more twirls, Louis sets Max back on his feet. He’s honestly not sure if Carey remembers him, as it’s been some months since he was last in LA—actually, it was over a year ago, wow. But they have time before they need to get going, so he sinks to the floor, crosses his legs, and gives Carey his best smile. 

“You remember that story of the mermaid who wanted to fly?” he asks. 

Carey nods, because of course she does; it’s her favorite bedtime story, according to James. “I wrote that for you,” Louis says. “I’ve been thinkin’ lately of maybe adding more. Would you like to hear?” 

“Yes, please!” she shrieks, launching away from her mum and practically falling into his lap.

He laughs as he steadies her. “It’s a work in progress, love,” he says, tickling her gently, “so go easy on me, yeah?” 

They’re ten minutes into the story, James and Max as enthralled as Carey, when Julia clears her throat. “We need to leave now if we want to keep the reservation,” she says, ruffling Max’s hair. 

“Yes, we mustn’t be late,” James says cheerfully. “Louis, you’ll continue in the car, won’t you?” 

Louis keeps a careful grip on Carey as he rises to his feet, but he has years and years of practice with littles trying to trip him. “Of course,” he says. He’s completely making it up as he goes along, but he’ll write down a version of it later, have it printed for her next birthday. It’s only fitting since the original story was for her birth. 

He’s put in the middle of the backseat, naturally, between the two children, and as soon as James turns the ignition key, he resumes the story. 

.

Once they’re settled in the restaurant, the children become distracted with colors and the paper provided, though Max does soon ask for Julia’s ipad. James and Julia are as fun as they always are, and his guard is down because he’s known James for such a long time, so he is actually shocked when James says, “Who is he, then?” 

Louis blinks, glancing over his shoulder before looking back at James. “Who is who?” 

“Whoever it is that’s got you grinnin’ like a fool,” James says. 

“I’m not,” Louis shoots back but then Julia betrays him to say, “You have been, love.” 

Louis pouts down at his chicken. 

“I’m just so excited to see it,” James tells him, leaning over to nudge his shoulder. “But keep your secret if it makes you happy.” 

“It’s nothin’ so far, really,” Louis says, staring determinably at his chicken as he cuts into it. 

“Alright, Louis,” James says, and he doesn’t have to look up to know they’re exchanging smug smiles. “Now, did I tell you about Michelle Obama’s carpool karaoke yet?” 

“No, but I did watch it,” Louis answers. “I’m quite curious how that came about, though.” 

Talk of James’ show (and Julia’s reaction when James invented Tattoo Roulette for some pop band) carries them through the rest of dinner and the ride home, though Julia asks, as she’s unbuckling Max so that Louis can escape from the car, “There’ll be a happy ending in the final book, won’t there?”

He drops a kiss on Max’s hair and then Julia’s cheek. “Of course there is,” he says. He leans down to wave to James. “It was wonderful to see you all. Give Carey a kiss for me.” 

“I better be the first to know when you and this fellow make it official,” James calls through the window as Louis’ heads off. 

Louis calls back, “Yeah, yeah,” as he digs into his pocket for his keys. 

.

He types up what he remembers of the mermaid sequel for Carey, most of it in bulletpoints, before lying in bed for hours, unable to fall asleep. He stares at the ceiling for awhile before rolling over and closing his eyes. 

He knows the signs now, after all. And he’ll listen to Liam, to Mum. So he gives himself permission to be excited, to have nerves that aren’t from fear of the worst possible outcome, to think of what could be _**good**_. 

There is so much that could be good. 

.

He takes a bath in the morning instead of a shower. Harry’s text had provided both a place and a time, and instead of panicking as he has before the other two not-dates, he pulls on his most comfortable clothes that aren’t sleepwear and leaves early enough that he arrives with a few minutes to spare. It’s an adorable little café he’s wandered past before but never gone in; the décor is welcoming and reminds him of the place back home he used to take the girls. 

Harry already has a table, of course, and he waves Louis over with a bright grin. He’s also dressed casually, the softest Louis’ seen him. 

“Good morning,” Harry says while Louis gets settled. “Have you thought any more about a tattoo?” 

“I did, actually,” Louis says, flipping the menu open. “What’s good here, Harold?” 

.

They start talking about tattoos, then move into Harry’s own artwork and photography, touch lightly on _Sky Reign_ (where Louis complains about the ever-changing title), and then Harry asks a question that has Louis ramble on about writing all the way until Harry signals their server for the check. 

It’s unlike any date he’s ever had. “Is this a date?” he asks once the boy has picked up Harry’s card. 

Harry looks nervous. “Do you want it to be?” 

Louis fidgets with his hands, gaze on the table. “Not yet,” he admits softly. 

“Then it’s not,” Harry says. “Just two mates out for breakfast, or coffee, or a walk.” 

“Okay,” Louis agrees, relieved, reaching for his tea. 

.

Harry hugs him, outside the café, so Louis tugs at one of his curls, and neither of them can hide their smiles. 

“I’ll text you,” Louis says, bouncing slightly in place. “And you’d better send me the link to your instagram unless you want me googling you.” 

“I’ve been lookin’ into tattoos for you,” Harry replies, “so I’ll send you those, too.” 

Neither of them turns to leave. It isn’t until the door behind them opens, hitting Harry, that Louis realizes how silly it is, so (once he’s made sure Harry isn’t injured beyond his pride) he grins, waves, and saunters away as coolly as he can. 

He pauses at the corner to glance back, and Harry’s still there, watching him go. 

.

He almost calls Mum, or Lottie, or Liam. Maybe even James. Liam knows about the men in the clubs, the very few he brought home, and he’d called Mum in tears one morning, so unfortunately, Mum knows more than Louis wishes she did. 

But it still feels so new. A little bit sacred, maybe. He knows he never felt like this about Martin, even in the beginning, when Martin was gentle and kind, and maybe a little bit dangerous. Louis had been so stupid when he was 19.

When he gets home, he decides to go through all of his Louis Tomlinson, Author social media accounts and reply to every comment or tweet or whatever from a fan, because he hasn’t felt this hopeful, this happy, in a very long time, and if he can help someone else feel like this, it’ll just make a good day that much better. 

.

Late that evening, he gets _Ascendancy_ back with the editor’s notes (well, the editors’ notes, because there are three of them, and they don’t often agree; Louis’ figured out how to make it work), so he replies that he received it, and then forwards it to Ewan, just for Ewan’s records. 

He makes his way through the first two chapters, making his own notes on what to fix. The easiest bit is the grammar, usually just a missing semicolon or something. Of the editors, Eleanor only focuses on that, and she’s by far the easiest to deal with. 

What he doesn’t like is the one who disagrees with Louis’ plot, half the time. He leaves little comments all over the place, asking if such-and-such is necessary, or demanding to know why this person did that thing, and it is _**maddening**_. Louis complained about it to Ewan once, but unfortunately that editor (Simon Jones) is actually one of the owners of the company, so Louis just has to grit his teeth and deal with it. 

He’s in such a good mood tonight, though, that even when he finds Jones’ comment on how stupid having Tomas be assassinated is, he just snickers because for anything else in the story to happen, Tomas _**has**_ to be killed in mysterious circumstances, and if Jones can’t see that, then he clearly hasn’t read the previous four books. 

The third editor, Irving Azoff, reads for characterization and continuity, making sure Louis doesn’t contradict something from previous books and the only note he leaves on the first 67 pages is, _Make it a little more obvious Madria isn’t dead_. Louis laughs, though he does jot that down. 

He’s so happy, in fact, that he writes a quick drabble of Lis and Madria’s first meeting from Lis’ point of view, putting in as much foreshadowing as he can, and then posts it to A03. 

He may also dance around his flat in happiness, but that’s neither here nor there.

.

He finishes his read-through on Sunday, in-between tweeting cryptically, reblogging new artwork from the three fan-artists whose work he showed the BBC, and texting Harry random thoughts (or, perhaps, not so random, as they’re all about Jones, but he doesn’t provide Harry that context). He makes a schedule to incorporate the notes chapter-by-chapter, on notebook paper and color-coordinated, and does the first one that afternoon.

Harry keeps texting him truly awful jokes, but Louis laughs at every single one of them, thoroughly endeared. 

After he’s finished with chapter one, he decides to go for a walk, even though it’s nearly dusk. He has no set destination in mind so when he’s been out for a half hour, he turns around to walk home. 

Then, just to be a little shit and because he’s so excited about life at the moment, he takes a photo of his schedule and uploads it to instragam, with the caption _Soon, my darlings_ and the upside-down smiley. 

Harry texts, as Louis is crawling into bed, _You’re mean >:(_ and Louis snickers into his pillow. 

.

Before the sun is even up on Monday, Ewan arrives to fetch him for an interview with some awful morning show that Louis has never bothered watching. He groans about it all the way to the station but of course is all smiles when the assistant meets them and leads them to a room to refresh and wait in. 

“How many more of these are there?” he whines to Ewan. 

“I know you’ve memorized the schedule,” Ewan tells him, “so please act like a professional adult?” He then grins evilly, an expression Louis is quite sure he didn’t have before they met. “You do turn 30 this year, don’t you?” 

Louis’ mouth drops open. “Oi, we’re to never mention that!” 

Ewan laughs, looks at Louis, and then laughs harder. Louis crosses his arms, putting on a pout that he knows would do Dorie proud. 

“Eat your breakfast,” Ewan finally says when he’s calm. “Get ready for the interview. Remember, talk up the show.” 

“I know,” Louis grumbles, curling up in the comfiest looking chair in the room with a pastry. 

.

The interview goes well as they chat about _Fortress_ as a whole and Book 5 in particular, and Evelyn, the younger of the two interviewers, tries to charm information on the title out of him but Louis just chuckles because, “You do remember that I’m gay, love?” and she smiles, shrugging, “It was worth a try.” 

They also discuss the show, and since no one told him he couldn’t mention the cycle of names, he brings it up with the interviewers before addressing the camera directly, “It might be a fun game, actually—tweet me your ideas for a name and I’ll make a list of the best ones to present at our next meeting.” He grins while both women laugh. 

“But what’s it like, this world you created being turned into a television show?” Carrie asks. 

“It’s proper amazing, innit?” he says. “I mean, I still wake up sometimes thinkin’ I’m back in uni and late to my creative writing class, and then when I remember that my only work that day is to finish a chapter of my book or to call the marketing people back—it’s just insane.” He shrugs. “I never imagined anything like this, when I started. Not at all.” 

“So, the show is just the first three books?” Evelyn asks, pulling them from the stack one of the assistants had made of all of Louis’ books, including _Bloodfall_ , he notices with a grin that would’ve been a wince even a month ago. 

“Yeah, because the last two are too entwined, which I explained when they first approached me,” Louis answers, taking _From the Sky_ and _Exodus_ from her. “So, there’s quite a lot that’ll be cut, and a few things that are changed, but I think fans of the books will really enjoy watchin’ the show, and hopefully, the show’ll bring more people to the books.” 

There’s just basic chitchat for the next little while, and Evelyn and Carrie mention every popular actor under 40 as a possibility for the main cast, but Louis just smiles charmingly and doesn’t react. 

Finally, as it draws to a close, Carrie says, “And production begins next month?” 

“Yup,” Louis says. “I’ll actually get to be on set for some of it, which I’m proper excited about.” 

“Well, thank you for stopping by this morning,” Evelyn says. “We’re delighted to see you, as always.” 

“Thank you for havin’ me,” he replies, and slumps in relief when the cameras stop rolling.

There’ll be a dozen more just like it until he leaves for Doncaster in two weeks, and he’s got to somehow make every one of them unique, act as though it’s the first. 

Ewan meets him off to the side, grinning widely. “That went well,” he says. “But the Simons have some notes for you, so they’ve called a meeting for this afternoon.” 

“Of course they have,” Louis mutters. 

.

Ewan ushers Louis into the meeting with Simon Jones and Simon Cowell, two of the owners of the publishing firm, who want to discuss how the television show will bring them money, and the ways Louis can advertise that throughout the course of the promo.

It’s absolutely nothing Ewan hasn’t already told him, so the meeting goes by quickly. 

Then, of course, Simon Jones says, “The ending—it’s too ambiguous. I noted that, I’m sure.” 

“You did,” Louis agrees. It’s one of the notes he’s going to ignore. 

“Where is the resolution of the women’s relationship?” Simon Jones demands, leaning back in his chair. “It’s what the fans want.” 

_Sex scene?!_ had actually been what he’d written. 

“Sir, as has been the case throughout my contract here,” Louis says, keeping his tone respectful, “I do not add gratuitous sex scenes. In this case, there is no need, so I left it out.” 

Simon Cowell raises an eyebrow. “I had a meeting with Taylor Swift last week. We’re happy with her direction of the show.” 

Louis glances at Ewan, who seems as confused as Louis feels. “I’ll be meeting with the network tomorrow,” he says. 

Simon Cowell smiles. “Good. As per your contract, you do have the final say—remember, however, that it is in _your_ best interest for your decisions to fall in line with ours.” 

“Of course,” Louis says, smiling brightly. 

“And add in sex,” Simon Jones says as Louis stands. “It’s what the public wants. You managed well enough in previous books, but I thought this one was boring—it’ll have to do, I suppose.” 

Louis pauses and almost says something, but then he exhales and instead says, “I shall take that under advisement and give it the due consideration it deserves.” He inclines his head slightly and strides to the door, and then takes five flights down instead of the lift because if he stands still, he’s going to punch something. 

Ewan’s waiting on the ground floor. “That went surprisingly well,” he says cheerfully, though Louis sees the strain. 

Louis gives him a tight smile. “I suppose it did.”

.

The meeting with Taylor and all her people is for 10 in the morning, and Nick arrives promptly at 9. Louis offers him tea, as he’s bringing his own for the ride, and Nick declines. They chat about music and the weather and Zayn Malik’s cheekbones, and Nick says, “The fans who tune in for him but haven’t read the books are going to hate you.” 

Louis smirks. “Not my fault.” 

One of the things he’s liked best about adapting the novels into script form is that it does give him the opportunity to explore other points of view. The books all rotated between four perspectives, none of which had been Rolan’s, and he’s actually looking forward to meeting with the main nine actors to discuss their characters. 

“So, the only role left to cast is Tomas?” he asks. 

“Well, actually, we have Tomas and Santos,” Nick says as he pulls into the parking garage. “We’ve got two actors but Taylor hasn’t decided yet which they should be.” 

Louis sighs. 

.

For this meeting, Louis is determined to address the fact that the cast is all entirely too young—the only one who should even be in her twenties is Leigh-Anne Pinnock, because Elisabeta is the youngest of the main characters. 

The script is completely finalized, so it should be going out to the cast later this week. Ewan is coordinating with the casts’ teams to schedule meetings between them and Louis for characterization and motivation questions, and after this meeting with Taylor, he’s going to meet with Caroline Watson and her people (and Harry, who’s already promised Louis a surprise present) about a few minor details to make the costuming perfect. 

He listens to Taylor’s spiel about her epic vision, and finally interrupts to ask, “Why are they all so young?” 

“Young?” she echoes, smiling. “What do you mean, Louis?” 

He wonders if she has any idea how creepy that is and assumes she does. “I mean, Madria is a warrior queen you have being played by a 30-year-old, her elite bodyguard is only 31, and everyone else is in their 20s. Why?” 

“Why?” Taylor parrots. “Well, because we’re going for a sexy show, Louis. I know you got the email about it back in December because my assistant saw your approval.” 

He stares at her. “You mean the email where I approved casting Leigh-Anne Pinnock, Zayn Malik, and Jesy Nelson? I did that because their auditions were attached, and they were really fuckin’ good. What I didn’t know at the time was that you’d added an age-cap to applicants.” 

Taylor shrugs. “And?” 

Oh, but he really could throttle her. And she is _**still fucking smiling**_. 

“We’ve also got a group of extras all ready to fill out the alien side of things,” she adds brightly. “They’re dancers, so they’re young and attractive, it’ll really keep the audience happy.” 

No. Louis straightens up in his seat, ignores all of the minions he assumes Taylor brought in to intimidate him, and says firmly, “No. Some of the Qinas can be young and pretty, that’s fine, and the same for the humans, elves, and dwarves. But some of them are going to be old and look like they’re actually from a medieval setting.” 

“Louis,” Taylor says, patronizingly like he’s a child, “everything is almost finished, okay? It’s too late—” 

“Some of them,” he says again, meeting her eyes, “will be elderly and middle-aged, and not look like models, or I am going to walk away from this project and take my script and my publishing house with me.” 

She freezes, eyes widening. “You wouldn’t.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “I’ve played nice all these months. What I want are characters who look like actual people.” 

Taylor sighs. “Fine,” she says after a moment. “Is there anything else?” 

He glances down at his notebook, taking the time to flip through it. He can practically hear Taylor’s teeth grinding. “Yes,” he finally says, glancing back up. “I want Perrie Edwards to direct all nine episodes.” 

“All nine?” Taylor asks. “We have four who have agreed, though we haven’t broken down who will direct which.” 

“I want one director for all of them, so that things stay consistent,” Louis says firmly. 

Taylor sighs again. “Very well, I’ll have the paperwork drawn up.” She pauses as the man beside her jots something down. “Is that everything?” 

“Yes,” Louis says. He smiles at her. 

She smiles back, looking like she wants to claw his eyes out. “Caroline’s waiting for you.” 

“I’ll see myself there, shall I?” Louis pushes back his chair and spins around (he _**loves**_ spinny chairs), bouncing to his feet. “Good talk, Taylor,” he throws over his shoulder. 

.

The meeting with Caroline’s people goes much better. Everyone talks over everyone and Louis flips through hardcopy scrapbooks of ideas while someone (Anna? Ethan?) has a slideshow going on the large monitor on the wall, and Harry stays tucked up beside him offering commentary on everything, and he’d also handed Louis a small pastry when he walked in, with a charming, “Baked it myself.” 

It tasted amazing, of course. “Which of these are yours?” he asks, holding up the scrapbook. 

Harry grins and flips to the section on Niko and Calina’s costumes. “Caroline’s given them to me,” he says. “She’ll check over everything before filming, of course, but I get to choose their makeup and design their costumes. The actors have already been in for their fittings.” He’s practically bouncing in place, lit up with excitement. It’s quite difficult to look away from his happiness, to focus back on the designs. 

“These are perfect,” Louis says. “I especially like that Calina’s armor actually covers most of her.” 

Harry laughs, nodding. “Yeah, that’s been a sticking point with some of the producers, but Caroline argued them down.” 

“Good,” Louis says, flipping back to Madria and Lis’ section. It’s different from seeing fanart, from how he’s imagined things. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he admits softly and Harry nudges their shoulders together. 

“Everyone, shut it!” Caroline shouts. Once quiet falls, she asks Louis, “Is there anythin’ we need to change? Anything you think isn’t right?” 

“No, it all looks good,” he says. 

A small cheer goes up. 

“That’s wonderful.” Caroline claps her hands once and says, “Everyone, you have an hour for lunch today.” 

Another cheer; Harry murmurs to Louis, “Marks&Spencer?” 

Louis grins, nodding. 

.

They talk about puppies all through lunch, because Harry is thinking of getting one, but he also maybe wants an older dog; Louis, who’d grown up with dogs, has advice and ideas, and then once they’re back at the office, Harry leads him to the suite of rooms that belong to the various design teams. 

“This one’s ours,” he says proudly, and Louis looks around at the corkboards full of designs and notes. “And this here’s my desk,” Harry adds, but then he’s called away by someone, so Louis sinks into Harry’s chair and goes exploring through his stuff. He doesn’t move anything, really, just opens drawers and skims through the sketchbooks. 

“Having fun?” Harry asks from behind him, sounding all serious. When Louis turns (another spinny chair!), it’s to see Harry with a serious expression and his arms crossed, as though the smile isn’t shining out of his eyes. 

“I am,” Louis answers, and that’s all it takes for Harry’s expression to break. 

.

There’s a meeting with the majority of the crew that afternoon, just a few last minute notes, and Louis only attends because he’s still in the building. 

“Hey, everyone!” Taylor says from the front of the conference room. It’s enormous and everyone fits, Caroline’s people and Taylor’s minions, lots of workerbees Louis hasn’t met yet, and then the main cast, all at the front of the table. 

Somehow, Zayn Malik is prettier in real life than on the screen, which is completely absurd. 

Louis is hanging back, and though Harry had obviously wanted to stay beside him, Harry’s slouched next to Caroline. Louis’ not even sure Taylor’s spotted him. 

“Today,” Taylor says, “we just have some last minute things to go over before we start production. Cast, you’ll get your scripts later this week so that you can read through and clarify anything you need to.” She turns to Caroline to say, “Y’all just keep doin’ what you’re doin’; we’ll have the costumes and make-up approved by the first week of June.” She clasps her hands together and smiles. “We’re all gonna make _Skyfall_ into the best show on the BBC!” 

There’s a moment of silence before a slight applause starts and Louis literally cannot stop himself. 

“You want to call the show _Skyfall_?” Louis repeats with incredulity. “Are you serious?” 

The crowd all turn to face him but he just looks at Taylor.

“It’s a good name!” Taylor says, sounding annoyed but Louis doesn’t care. 

“It’s also a James Bond movie!” he replies scathingly. “I’ve been getting tweets about possible names and they’ve all been better than that.” 

She glares at him but after a moment she smiles. “Of course,” she says with a laugh. “How about, the first week of June, you give us that list of names and my team and I’ll decide on one.” 

He smiles in reply. “Of course,” he says sweetly. “That sounds wonderful.” 

“Good, good.” Taylor clearly wants to kill him. He just smiles wider. 

The meeting continues after Taylor tears her angry eyes away from him and he leans back against the wall, biting down on his lip to keep in everything he wants to say. Harry catches his gaze and rolls his eyes, so at least someone else is aware of how ridiculous the name thing is. 

Honestly, how hard is it to name a television show? They have five books to choose from, and each book has twenty or more chapters with names. He tweets, _Thanks, everyone! Keep those names coming!_

Once the meeting begins to break up, Nick hurries over to him. “We should head out now,” Nick says, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Well,” Louis says, “if you think that’s best.” 

He makes sure to catch Taylor’s eye and wave on his way out. 

.

The rest of the week is full of promo, taking Niall and Liam out to lunch or for drinks, and texting Harry. Harry keeps him updated on all the drama happening behind the scenes (because he obviously has connections in every department, because everyone loves him) while Nick emails only the important bits that Louis should know. He doesn’t get much writing done but does begin scheduling those meetings with the cast for next week, and then on Thursday afternoon, Harry invites him to an art show on Saturday evening. 

Of course Louis agrees. Saturday morning will be spent meeting with Leigh-Anne Pinnock and Jesy Nelson because as the two leads, it’s important that they understand their characters’ motivation (especially what won’t be known until _Ascendancy_ hits the shelves, and he’s tickled that there’s secret information he needs to impart to the actors playing his characters. He feels like JK Rowling. The other actors are spread throughout the following week, though no one Friday, as that’s his pack-shit-up and travel day. 

. 

The meeting with Leigh-Anne and Jesy goes smashingly well; Jesy had already been a fan before auditioning for the show, while Leigh-Anne had read all the books after auditioning. They both had thoughtful and interesting questions, so Louis left feeling very hopeful for the show. (He’d also told them the ending, so they’d know how to play it. Jesy had groaned, “You’re _**evil**_.”) 

Harry’s going to meet him at that adorable café for an afternoon snack before they catch the tube together to the art gallery. They’ll be hours early, of course, but Harry had seemed so excited about the place that Louis wanted to look around at everything else and let Harry babble on about the pieces, as he’s sure to do. 

Louis leaves his flat at 3, with a fairly fancy shirt and his nicest pair of jeans, and manages to beat Harry to the café by a good 5 minutes. Harry’s top this time is stripey, blue and gold, and he’s got skintight black trousers on and—

“Are those gold boots?” Louis asks, leaning out of his chair for a better look. 

“Yes!” Harry says happily. “They’re my favorite.” 

“How many kinds of boots have you got?” Louis resituates in his chair while Harry settles into his. 

They talk about Harry’s boot collection while Louis drinks his tea and Harry sips on a latte, then move on to the research Harry’s still been conducting for his dog or puppy quest. Once they’re done with the drinks, they head to the tube. 

The art show will begin at 7, and that wing of the gallery is off-limits, but the place is much bigger than Louis anticipated it being, so they start on the third floor. “What can you tell me about this one?” Louis asks, picking a portrait at random. It’s some modern art thing, he thinks; he’s never understood the modern stuff, but he was right about Harry rambling on. 

The art show itself is interesting enough, but Louis doesn’t spare much attention to the photos displayed, because Harry is far more deserving of it. There’s a table of food that Louis grazes at occasionally, and he also brings little plates of food to Harry, who has something to say to everyone and he introduces Louis to quite a few of them, including the owner of the gallery, the manager, and the artist whose work makes up the show, because obviously he knows them all. 

They leave after 9. On their way to the nearest tube station, Harry asks, “Did you have fun?” 

“I did,” Louis answers. “’ave you ever thought of doin’ a show with your own photos?” 

Harry laughs slightly, shaking his head. “I’m not that good.” 

“You are, though,” Louis says. “Better than what’s-his-face back there, for sure.” 

“Luke?” Harry snorts. “He’s traveled the world, photographing amazing things. My stupid little shots can’t compete with that.” 

“You remember the first time we met?” Louis says as they start down the stairs. “When you said somethin’ nice about a book I regretted, and then I ended up revaluating that book?” 

“It’s not the same,” Harry tells him. 

They’re right on time for the train, so Louis finds a spot and then fixes his gaze on Harry. Harry glances at him and then away and then back and then away, and finally he mutters, “Stop it.” 

“Your pictures are as lovely as you are,” Louis says. “And that’s the last word about it, yeah?” 

Harry ducks behind his curls. Louis nods, satisfied. 

.

On Sunday, Louis finishes the final three chapters of revisions for _Ascendancy_ and then chooses a month at random to scroll through Harry’s Instagram and like the best photos. (Which ends up being 31, oops.) He breaks for lunch and to answer emails (professional and fun), and then he curls up with his laptop in the comfy chair in his office that gets the best light to reread the entirety of the book. 

In the morning, he sends the revised version to Ewan and takes a cab to the BBC to meet with Zayn Malik. They spend an hour discussing Rolan and why Zayn has chosen the part; he’s high off his Golden Globe for playing an art student who accidentally saves the world from a demon plot, and it’s his first television role since he was a teenager. 

While he’s waiting for his second meeting of the day, he texts Lottie, _Zayn Malik: surprisingly dorky_ and she sends back a long series of question marks. He then texts Harry, _I’m booooored come entertain me_. 

Harry replies, _You’re here?_

Louis sends him a smirking selfie, with the hideous landscape on the main hall’s wall looming behind him, and Harry trips off the lift within two minutes. He doesn’t even protest when Louis laughs at him. 

“What are you doin’ here?” Harry asks, offering Louis his bag of crisps. 

“Well, I met with Zayn Malik this morning to discuss his first turn as a villain,” Louis says, popping a crisp into his mouth. “And now I’m waitin’ to see Taylor and Denis about who should be cast as Tomas and who should be cast as Santos because for some reason they can’t agree.” He smiles widely at Harry, making grabby-hands for the bag. “And how has your mornin’ been, Harold?” 

Harry chuckles as he hands over the bag before leaning against the wall. “Not as eventful as yours.” 

.

Harry decides to tell knock knock jokes to pass the time. “Won’t your boss miss you?” Louis asks as he curls up in the chair and grins at Harry, who is trying to casually slouch in the chair opposite. 

“I told her ’m’on an important errand,” Harry says. “Now, knock knock.” 

“You know, for Christmas, I got my baby sister a book full of jokes,” Louis muses, shifting around for a more comfortable position. “You’d best give me somethin’ amazin’ ’ve never heard before, if you want to impress me.” 

Harry narrows his eyes. “I am quite serious about my jokes.” 

Louis rests his chin on his knee, trying to wrestle down his smile. “Let’s hear it, then.” 

.

Harry does eventually have to get back to work, while Louis keeps sitting there, waiting. By the time Denis’ assistant comes for him, Louis is beyond annoyed and into aggravated, but he gives Kaley a smile and thanks her for the escort. 

Taylor’s office reminds him slightly of Umbridge’s from Harry Potter; he makes a note to tell Liam later. Denis, the casting director for the show that will not be called _Skyfall_ , nods in greeting, a stressed smile on his face. “Thank you for coming in,” he says. He and Louis haven’t interacted much since that first meeting about the show early last year but he seems like a decent fellow. 

“Well, I just finished my revisions and I was here anyway, so it’s no problem.” He nods towards Taylor and sits in the chair next to Denis. 

“We’re glad you weren’t inconvenienced,” Taylor says. 

“So, what’s the difficulty, exactly?” he asks. 

.

He leaves the BBC at mid-afternoon, with the final two main characters finally cast. He hasn’t seen Alberto Alvarez, their Tomas, in anything except a very short lived action show about assassins—there were production issues, he heard at the time, and Mum was very unhappy it failed. Paul Higgins, though, their Santos, is taking a break from his usual romantic comedies to (like Zayn) make his debut as a villain.

Louis texts Liam to see if’s free for the day yet, and then grabs takeaway and goes to Liam’s flat. Liam hasn’t replied but he also never took back the key he gave Louis, so. He puts on Liam’s copy of _Grease_ and sinks down onto Liam’s sofa with his pasta. He’s partway through the sequel by the time Liam finally trudges through the door. 

“Please say there’s enough for me,” he mutters, dropping beside Louis and flopping halfway onto him. 

“Of course there is, Leemo,” Louis coos. “I know how to take care of m’boy.” 

“Today was so long,” Liam groans. “And I swear my mobile is eating texts, because I didn’t get yours ‘til I was almost here.” 

“What would you’ve done if I wasn’t here with food?” Louis asks, petting at his hair. 

“Cried, probably.” Liam rolls his head so he can look up at Louis. “Get me food, please?” he says, eyes wide and dewy. It’s been a long time since he looked so pathetic and adorable—not since the end of their first year at uni, when he finally collapsed on his bed after a tantrum and confessed to Louis, “I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“Well, let me up, then,” Louis says. “I’ll get you some pasta.” 

.

They shoot the shit and it feels like uni again, the early days, before Louis met Martin and it all went downhill. Liam is soon drooping, eyes drifting and staying closed for longer and longer, so Louis asks, “Can I trust you to make it to bed or do I need to tuck you in?” 

“I can do it,” Liam grumbles, pushing himself to his feet. “’m’28, Lou, when’d that happen?” 

“I don’t know,” Louis chuckles. “We’re gettin’ old.” 

Liam wraps him in a hug before shuffling to his bedroom, so Louis picks up his mess and locks the door behind him. 

.

The rest of the week is for meeting with the remaining cast, an emergency consult with Caroline when one of the producers throws a fit about one of the designs, lunch with Harry on Wednesday, and then dinner on Thursday, where Harry actually rants about someone he never names who is making everyone’s life harder. Louis isn’t sure who—from what Harry says, it obviously isn’t Taylor. 

Louis is finishing off his mushroom burger when Harry stops midsentence; Louis glances up to see Harry looking horrified. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, sitting up and tensing in case he has to do something. 

“I’ve just been—I’m sorry,” Harry says. “I can’t believe I’ve been so, so _**rude**_.” 

Louis giggles, dragging a chip through the ketchup. “It’s been fine, love,” he assures Harry, glancing back up. “I’ve learned a few new words, I think.” 

Harry still looks completely mortified, so Louis reaches over to touch his hand. “I’ve had quite a few rants meself, a time or two.” 

“I believe it,” Harry says. His smile peeks out as he turns his hand over to lightly clasp Louis’. “So you’re going to see your family tomorrow?” 

Louis knows he’s bragged about Daisy’s exhibition to everyone, but he goes into it again because it’s amazing. 

They stay through dessert discussing their sisters (and Ernie), and before they separate for the night, Louis promises to send Harry a million pictures of the art show. Harry hesitates, darting glances at Louis and away, and Louis feels his smile bloom. He steps forward, leans up, and kisses Harry’s cheek quickly, and as he pulls back, he almost says, _I wish you knew me when I was eighteen. I miss that boy I used to be_. He reaches up to pat where his lips just were and he murmurs, “I’ll see you in June, Harold.” 

He feels Harry’s eyes on him until he turns the corner. 

.

In the morning, Louis dances around his apartment, throwing everything he needs to bring into three bags and manages to get on the road by 10, actually ahead of the schedule he set for himself. He’s practically buzzing, feels like he could float away at any moment, and it’s entirely new. He hadn’t dated in high school, unless he counted Hannah, though he’d flirted with and snogged a few boys, and then he had Martin. 

He sings along to his travel playlist, and an hour in, he pauses the music so he can record the verses that come to him on his mobile. He’s just so _**happy**_ , and he feels young again. 

.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mum says as soon as he’s through the door, tearing up and pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Mum?” he mumbles into her shoulder. 

“Oh, baby,” she cries. “Lou, I’m just so happy. _**You**_ look so happy.” 

“Mum,” he repeats, holding her and letting her cry. 

.

Lottie’s back for the summer, though her internship will evolve into a job in the fall. Fizzy is also home, resting up for her final year at uni. (His little sisters are getting so _**old**_ , it’s horrifying.) He takes all of them, Mum and Dan and the girls and Ernie, to dinner at Mum’s favorite restaurant. Lottie’s boy Tommy, Fizzy’s girlfriend Elise, and Phoebe’s friend Clara come with them. 

He doesn’t realize until they’re back home and Lottie and Fizzy have sat him down on the sofa so they can loom in front of him, arms crossed, both looking so much like Mum it’s frightening, that he’s been smiling since he left his flat this morning. 

“Tell me about Zayn Malik,” Lottie orders. 

“ _ **I**_ want to know about Jesy Nelson,” Fizzy says. “Is she actually gonna be on the show?” 

Louis smirks at them, leaning back against the cushion. “What’s the information worth?” 

He isn’t surprised when they attack with the ornamental pillows. 

.

Saturday is spent entertaining Ernie and Dorie, so he plans to essentially wander around Doncaster and do whatever they want. Lottie decides to tag along but Fizzy stays home because she isn’t awake when they leave. The older twins are practically barricaded in their room, which is why Louis is getting the younger twins out of the house. Dan’s called into work for an emergency of some sort and Mum’s got something in mind to distract Daisy, so he really hopes he’s helping by taking the kids on an adventure. 

“So,” Lottie says as they trail behind the twins, who are whispering to each other about something that’s apparently very exciting, “Liam and Niall have been texting me, askin’ if I know about this new boy who’s taking up all your time.” 

Louis immediately starts walking faster. 

“That won’t work, Lou,” she calls, lunging forward to grab his arm so he slows back down. “Liam just worries, you know that. Niall was shocked none of us knew anything.” 

“I didn’t tell Liam so that he _**wouldn’t**_ worry,” Louis mutters. So much for that, then. 

“Just…” Lottie squeezes his hand. “Be careful, okay?” 

He drops a kiss onto the top of her head. “I promise.” 

.

They return home just after 4 to a kitchen full of biscuits. Phoebe shrugs her from spot at the breakfast bar, so Louis just grabs one of each and announces “Ernie and Dorie have declared a _Star Wars_ marathon.” He shepherds each of his siblings into the den, having to hunt down Daisy; Fizzy is already on the squishy chair, texting Elise.

“Lou,” Daisy whines as he pushes her down beside her twin. “I have—”

“Petal, do you know how many deadlines I’ve had to deal with?” he asks. “How many times I’ve waited panicking to know how somethin’ I’ve poured my heart and soul to will be judged?” Everyone else is quiet, even the littles. Daisy’s chin is quivering so he reaches out to cup her face in his palms. “You’ve already turned in the piece, baby girl. It’s finished. I know you won’t be able to stop thinkin’ about it, but please stay here with us.” 

She sighs, slumping forward; he catches her in a hug, and for a moment, his mind overlays her with that little girl he used to rock and hum lullabies too. He glances around the room, at the other five who were babies. They’re all so big now. All of them are adults except Dorie and Ernie. 

“It’s my first real show, boobear,” Daisy whispers. “What if everyone hates it?” 

“I can’t promise someone won’t like it,” he admits as Phoebe wraps her arms around Daisy from the side. “But do you love it? Is it everything you wanted it to be?” 

“Yes,” she says tearfully. 

“Then you’ve already won,” he says. He kisses her forehead, squeezing her again before pulling away slowly so that Phoebe can guide her into the corner of the sofa. “Let’s get this marathon started,” he exclaims, clapping his hands. 

Mum is standing in the doorway, hand to her mouth, tears on her face. _I love you,_ she mouths, wiping at her eyes as turns away.

Louis throws himself onto the sofa, and then the littles fling themselves into his lap, each demanding the film they want to watch first. Ernie adores Jar Jar Binks for reasons Louis does not understand and Dorie thinks Leia is the most amazing person ever, and they are both astonishingly loud. Louis knows he was never so loud when he was younger, no matter what Mum says. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, shaking them gently. “It’s Daisy’s pick tonight.” 

They both settle down so they can turn wide eyes on her. She smiles, looking less terrified now. 

“Chronologically,” she says. “ _Phantom Menace_ first.” 

“There you have it, monsters,” Louis announces. 

Ernie cheers; Dorie pouts. 

Lottie puts the disc in and then slips into the very little space left on the sofa. She fits because she’s by far the smallest of them all. “Don’t say it,” she mutters, elbowing him carefully so that she doesn’t accidentally get Ernie. 

“I would never say anything about how tiny you are, my absolute favorite oldest little sister,” Louis tells her, sincerity utterly dripping from each word. 

She sticks out her tongue at him; Ernie says, “Be quiet, it’s starting!” But he then starts poking Louis’ belly, begging, “Read the words in the voice!” 

Instead of giving his baby brother a hard time, Louis reads the scroll in his dramatic announcer voice. Fizzy tucks her mobile away. Dorie crawls over Louis and Ernie to cuddle with Lottie. 

He’s home, and all his siblings are in the same room, and nothing else matters at the moment, so Louis focuses on Ewan McGregor looking adorably rumpled as a padawan. 

Mum brings in sandwiches while Lottie puts in the next disc. As she passes by the sofa, she kisses the top of his head and murmurs, “You are the best boy, my love.” 

He’s never agreed with that but he knows better than to argue with her about it. 

.

Ernie and Dorie are asleep by the time Amidala is rescuing herself, so Louis carries Dorie to bed while Dan scoops up Ernie. The marathon continues with Fizzy moving to the sofa so she can stretch out across the rest of them, where she mutters comments to Louis, purely looking to get a rise out of either Lottie or Phoebe—it’s never been clear which of them loves Anakin more. Mum and Dan say goodnight around 10, and Mum kisses each of them. 

By _A New Hope_ , Daisy is asleep; by the time Yoda is training Luke, Fizzy’s drifted off, too, head resting on Louis’ thigh. Phoebe’s practically asleep, too, so Louis nudges Lottie’s shoulder. “Let’s get them to bed,” he murmurs. 

It was easier when they all were littler, when Louis could just carry them up the stairs and tuck them in, but eventually, Louis’ the only one still out of bed. He checks all the locks and then falls into the bed in the room that Mum designated his for whenever he visits. It’s not his childhood bedroom, because that was in the house Mum shared with Dad, the house she moved out of when she married Dan. 

He texts Harry, _What tattoo do you think I should get?_

He’s mostly asleep when he gets Harry’s reply: _We’ve had this convo before_. He chuckles and that’s the last thing he remembers. 

.

After breakfast, when Daisy is sitting in the backyard watching Phoebe and Dorie play football, Louis sits down beside her to ask, “Would you illustrate a children’s book I want to write?”

“Is that your next book?” She looks surprised, which is fair. None of his books have been for children, and while they’ve all been marketed for teenagers and adults, he didn’t exactly write any of them with teenagers in mind. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ of it off and on,” he says, pausing to cheer when Dorie scores. “I wrote and illustrated somethin’ meself for James’ daughter, you remember Carey?” She nods, so he continues, “But I’m not much of an artist. I think I want to turn it into a real book, though, especially since I’ve written more for it.” 

“Are you sure you want _**me**_ to illustrate?” She fidgets with the hem of her blouse. “I mean, I’m sure there a hundred established names who’d want to work with you.” 

He wraps his arms around her shoulder, pulling her in. “You’re the one I trust, Petal,” he says. “I’ll be rewriting the basic idea soon, and I’ll send you the draft then. Just let me know if it’s something you’d want to illustrate.” 

Daisy cheers as Phoebe steals the ball. Louis says, “I’m really excited for your show.” 

Daisy laughs. “I am, too.” 

.

Daisy’s uni has a presentation before the start of the festival, so they all get dressed up and go to Daisy’s favorite café for breakfast, taking two cars so everyone fits; Dad meets them there. Daisy barely touches her crêpe, so Louis makes it his mission to distract her by repeating as many of Harry’s terrible jokes as he can. Dorie is in stitches but every time Daisy smiles, he counts it as a win. 

When they leave, Phoebe and Daisy ride with Dad, Ernie and Fizzy ride with Louis, and then Mum, Dan, Lottie, and Dorie all take Mum’s car. 

The little introduction ceremony is particularly lovely, even though Daisy doesn’t seem to  
breathe throughout it, and then she’s called away to her department’s exhibition. She exhales slowly, nods, and then strides away like a queen, head held high. 

“Well!” Louis says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go look at some art!”

.

The Festival is going to run through July, but Daisy’s piece will only be up for a few weeks because everything apparently cycles through, so that everyone gets a fair share. Louis takes photos of his siblings with various sculptures and some of the performers, puts in an order for one of the blankets for sale (it’s got Batman on it and Liam’s got a birthday soon, Louis just can’t forget where he puts it), and texts Harry updates because not only did he promise but apparently work is hell today and Harry can use the pick-me-up. 

“Who are you texting?” Lottie asks, and then Phoebe and Fizzy, and then Mum, too, but then they thankfully find Daisy. 

“Oh, love, it’s wonderful,” Mum says, and it is, a series of panels of goddesses from around the world. There’s a stack of cards with an explanation, as well as Daisy’s name and major, but Louis’ eye is caught by Anann—except for the face and skin tone, everything about her panel is something Louis has seen before, had saved on a USB and brought to the BBC, had considered printing out so he could put it on his wall because it had been an almost perfect rendition of how he saw Madria in his mind. 

Daisy is jumping up and down with Phoebe, excited about something, but she freezes when Louis catches her eye over Phoebe’s shoulder. “They’re all amazing,” Louis says. “But I know for sure now that whenever I do a project, I want you to illustrate it for me.” 

She blushes but she nods and then Ernie goes over to ask if she’d explain what each picture meant. 

Louis takes a photo of Anann and sends it to Harry. _Look familiar?_ he asks, sending the thinky emoticon with it. He takes a few more photos and sends them, too, but he keeps coming back to the Anann portrait. He wonders if Madria predates it; Daisy’s been working on this collection since at least October.

Daisy has to stay for the rest of the day, and Phoebe stays with her. The rest of them leave at lunch, Fizzy and Lottie going with Dad so they can visit a little while. Louis offers to keep the littles for the day, in case Mum and Dan want time to themselves, and Mum agrees. 

As he leads them to his car, he asks, “What do you want to do after lunch?” 

Ernie and Dorie share a look, then they ask in unison, “Can we see the angry birds movie, Lou, please?” 

“Of course,” he says. “I’ve been wantin’ to see it, anyway.”

.

He goes back to explore the festival every day that week, because it’s so big and there’s so much to see, but only for the morning or the afternoon, depending. One or two of his siblings accompany him; Lottie and Fizzy use the time it’s them to interrogate him about his ‘mystery boy’ while Phoebe demands details of _Ascendancy_ and the show that will not be called _Skyfall_. He buys prank gifts for Liam and Niall, and then pretty things for Harry that catch his eye and that he thinks Harry would like. Only one of them is intended as a prank. 

Louis doesn’t tell Daisy that he knows her fanartist account. He does, however, send **purplepetals** a request from his professional account about commissioning a piece of art. 

His time in Doncaster seems to fly by, and it isn’t until the last day he’s there that Mum has the house cleared out (Ernie and Dorie with Dan on a daytrip to his parents, the girls with Dad to see Nan) so she can sit him down at the dining room table with a cup of tea. 

“We’ve never talked about what happened with that fucker,” she says once the silence has grown uncomfortable. He keeps his gaze on his tea. “And that’s not what I’m going to ask you about today, either. You haven’t—Louis, this way you are about Harry, I’ve never seen you like this in 29 years.” He can feel himself flushing slightly as she reaches to touch his hand. “Am I really the only person you’ve told about him?” 

He nods, still not looking up. “I just didn’t want Liam to worry,” he says. “And Niall would’ve told Liam. I wasn’t sure—he was just a friend, even though—” He sighs. “Mum, I wrote him a poem ten minutes after I met him. I hadn’t written any poetry at all in years and now I can’t stop.” He glances at her and she’s practically beaming while tearing up. “Why are you crying now?” he asks, bewildered. 

“Because I remember six years ago, sweetheart,” she says. “And I remember you from before.” She squeezes his hand. “After, when you called me from Liam’s, I’m not even sure you remember that night because you were quite drunk, but when I got off the line with you, I turned to Dan and I asked, ‘Would you help me dispose of a body?’” 

Louis stares at her, flabbergasted. 

She nods, smiling slightly. “If I hadn’t had young children who still needed me, well. In that moment, had that bastard been within reach—” she shrugs. “I’ve watched you heal, but you’ve been different these past few months. Like you’ve realized you deserve good things again.” 

He immediately looks down, shoulders hunching slightly. 

“Oh, Louis love,” she says, squeezing his hand again. “I love you so much. And you deserve so much. The way you talked about this Harry, the way you’ve smiled at your mobile, that you’re writing _**poetry**_ —you’ve always been so bright, so happy with life, excited about everythin’, and you just…” She actually starts crying with muffled _**sobs**_ so he pushes his chair back and hurries around the table to hold her. 

“Mum, I’m sorry,” he mumbles into her hair. “For just, everything.” 

“Don’t ever apologize for your pain,” she says, fingers digging into his back. “Or whatever it takes for you to heal.”

She’s told him that before. She’s told them all that. “I’m happy, Mum,” he says. “I like being around him. Thinkin’ about him. He’s just…” Entirely too good for Louis, but he knows better than to say that aloud. 

“You have no idea how happy hearin’ that makes me,” Mum tells him, pulling back to kiss both his cheeks. “Now, what do you want for dinner?” 

“Nothin’ elaborate, okay?” he entreats, going back to his chair. 

“Pancakes, then?” she asks, sipping her own tea. 

“Yes,” he decides. “Breakfast for dinner. I like it.” 

She chuckles. “Glad that’s settled, then.” 

They pass the next couple hours gossiping about the neighbors and about Louis’ cousins, and then she banishes him from the kitchen because she’s got some surprise in the works. He goes outside to kick goals and stays there until Fizzy comes to fetch him.

The surprise is his favorite kind of cake, decorated by the littles, so Louis scoops them both up to spin around and almost loses his balance. 

It’s a very good last night, and while he’s excited to leave in the morning, as he kisses and hugs all of them goodbye, it’s melancholy. 

Mum whispers, “Remember that you deserve good things, boobear,” as she clings to him, and he whispers back, “I’ll try.” 

Before he pulls out of the, he tweets _Back to the real world_ and then turns the music up so loud it hurts. 

.

When he gets home, he texts Mum, Liam, and Harry that he’s made it safely, takes a shower, and then lays down for a nap. That evening, he prints out the list of all the titles for the show that’ve been tweeted to him or sent to him on tumblr, and takes it into his office to cull through. There were quite a few repeats, and some of them are hilarious or dirty or just plain odd. He finally narrows it down to 10, leaves the papers on his desk, and throws together a sandwich for dinner. 

His mobile is screen-down on the sofa beside him as he watches a Graham Norton rerun. He can barely focus on the episode. 

Louis takes a deep breath, slowly exhales, then picks up the mobile and texts, _What are you doing tomorrow night?_

The reply comes within moments: _At the mo, nothing. Why?_

Louis takes another breath. _Would you like to come to my flat for dinner?_

He waits, counting the seconds, and the little bubble that shows when someone is typing mocks him the whole time. And then, finally, the text appears: _I’d love to,_ Harry says. _What time?_

.

Louis’ alarm wakes him entirely too early to be alive and he rampages through his kitchen, trying to figure out what he can make for dinner. He does consider just ordering takeaway, but he keeps coming back to _**making**_ something, to show how seriously he wants—well, anything Harry might give him. 

He has absolutely nothing in his kitchen that could make more than a sandwich, so he angrily throws on joggers and a band shirt before toeing on his favorite pair of Vans and stalking his way to the grocery store. 

It needs to be something fairly simple so that Louis doesn’t mess it up, but also complicated enough to be impressive. There was that thing Liam’s mum made that time, that Louis had really liked. He doesn’t remember all the pieces and googling stuffed chicken recipes while wandering through the store doesn’t help, but if he calls Karen, then she’ll almost definitely tell Liam. If he _**doesn’t**_ , though, there’s a better than good chance he’ll ruin dinner before he even gets started. He sighs and goes to benches near the front of the store, where he settles with his notebook and pen at the ready before ringing Karen. 

“Hi, Karen, this is Louis,” he says when she’s answered. Of course, she wants to chat and gossiping about Liam’s sisters and cousins is usually fun, but he has a mission today, so after a few minutes, he waits for her to pause for breath and he says, “Karen, d’you know that stuffed chicken thing you make sometimes?” 

“O’course I do,” she says. 

“Could you give me a list of the ingredients?” he asks. “And, um, maybe the directions on how to make it?” 

“O’course,” she says, and then proceeds through the recipe with him scrambling to keep up. “You got all that?” she asks when she’s finished. 

“I think so,” he says and then reads it back to her to make sure. 

“Yes, that’s everything,” Karen says as Louis rises from the bench and goes to claim a trolley. “Why d’you need the recipe, Louis?” 

“I’ve got lots of shoppin’ to do,” he tells her. “Thanks for the help!” She’s laughing as he ends the call and he knows she’s going to be ringing Liam any minute now. 

Oh, well, it can’t be helped. He’s got things to buy, a kitchen to clean, and a meal to cook. 

.

By the time he gets home and brings all his groceries into the flat, it’s nearing lunchtime and he has half a dozen missed calls and over a dozen unread texts, all from Liam. He puts away the groceries, tosses together a sandwich, and then settles on the sofa to scroll through the texts while eating his brunch, as he managed to not eat breakfast whilst panicking. 

Liam starts out curious and a little bemused, Louis can tell from the tone, but then he ends annoyed. Same as always, then. 

He calls Liam as soon as he’s finished the sandwich, collapsing backward onto the sofa and getting comfortable. Liam answers just before it would’ve gone to voicemail, his passive-aggressive way of letting Louis know he’s in trouble. 

Another sign that Louis’ in trouble: Liam answers with a flat, “What.” 

Louis cajoles, “Oh, Lima-babe, don’t be like that! You know you’re still me favorite.” 

“Am I?” he scoffs. “Then why’re you callin’ my mum for recipes? The last time you did that, it was to cook her spinach lasagna for that fucker, and I remember how that turned out, Lou!” 

… shit. Louis closes his eyes, bringing his free hand up to his face. 

“I met someone, Liam,” he says softly. “And I want to cook him somethin’ that shows I’m serious. And I haven’t told you because I knew you’d worry.” 

“How long,” Liam says. He still sounds a little short but like he could be talked around, so Louis knows that when he replies, “We met in October,” it’s just going to wind Liam right back up because that’s—“Eight months!” Liam shouts. 

“But we really only started talking in May,” Louis says quickly. “It’s only been a month.” 

Liam exhales noisily. “D’you remember the last time you started hidin’ things?” 

“I do,” Louis admits quietly. “Which is why I want to invite you over tomorrow night, Liam. So we can—there’s things we need to talk about, that I know—” He has to cut himself off before Liam can tell there are tears trying to work their way into his voice. “Mum said just on Saturday that I never talk about— _ **him**_. And she wanted me to get therapy, you remember? You mentioned that too.” 

“I remember,” Liam says, and there’s warmth in his voice again. “But instead you wrote a terrifying novel.” 

“Yeah.” Louis chuckles but it sounds more sad than happy. “So come over tomorrow night. I’ll tell you everythin’ that’s been goin’ on, and about Harry. About how tonight goes.” He pauses, inhales, exhales, and says, “About that night I showed up at your door.” 

“Did I ever tell you I almost beat the shit of him?” Liam asks after a moment. 

“No, I can’t say you did,” Louis murmurs, rubbing at the corner of his eye. 

“When we went to get your stuff,” Liam continues, completely casually, like it’s the weather or something. “I rung Bressie, remember him? He’s the one who brought Niall around. Bressie, Josh and Jon, Sandy, a few others. I punched him and then when I went after him again, Bressie grabbed me, held me back.” 

Louis laughs. “You actually punched him?” 

“I did.” Liam sounds a little proud, which is just odd because as long as Louis has known him, he’s been a little pacifist. 

“Liam,” Louis says as he sits up. “If you tell me that Harry’s no good, that he reminds you of, of—” None of them, not Liam, not Mum, not any of Louis’ sisters, have ever used his name. “Of _Martin_ ,” he says. “I know the signs now, you know? And I won’t cut you or Mum or anyone out, I promise. But you have to give him a fair shot.” 

Liam sighs. “Tomorrow night, Tommo. Sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

“Thank you for punching him,” Louis murmurs. 

“I’d have done worse,” Liam says. “But he didn’t make trouble after that.” 

No, Martin hadn’t. Had called a few times but Louis didn’t answer, and then Liam blocked Martin’s number from Louis’ mobile. He stayed in Liam’s flat for weeks, just existing. He only ate because Liam forced him to. And he drank quite a lot. There are entire days he doesn’t remember. 

“I have to get back to work,” Liam says. “But I… I wish you luck for tonight. You’ve been happier recently.” 

Louis smiles up at the ceiling. “I really think you’ll like him, Liam. I hope you do.” 

“I hope I do, too,” Liam murmurs, and he’s completely sincere. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Louis lets his mobile fall onto the cushion beside his head and wipes at his eyes. He stays on the sofa for awhile, drifting in and out, but then he finally sits up, counts to twenty, and returns to the kitchen to make a plan. 

The last proper meal he cooked went… poorly. It tasted fine, surprisingly, especially since the main ingredient was spinach, but what happened after—

He shakes the thoughts away. Not important now. He decides to do all the prep work, so that there’ll be plenty of time this evening, but first he needs to thoroughly clean the kitchen, scrubbing every inch ‘til it shines. He puts on his _dance ‘til collapse_ playlist and goes to work. 

.

He takes a short break after mopping the floor, checking his work emails. He replies as needed, then jots down a few lines that come to him, and then he strides back into the kitchen, determined to prep everything for dinner. 

It’s just after 3 so he has three hours. “Plenty of time,” he assures himself, putting the recipe he got from Karen onto the counter. 

.

Harry is supposed to arrive for 6:30 and he’s always either early or right on time, so Louis wants everything ready by 6:15. The only thing that goes wrong is the mash taking longer than it should’ve, but he has the chicken out of the oven and cooling by 6:05, and the potatoes are ready, too, so he makes sure all the burners and oven are off and then rushes through a shower and drying his hair, pulling on the clothes he laid out earlier, and by the time Harry texts at 6:30 _downstairs :)_ , Louis is dressed with his hair styled and more nervous than he’s ever been in his life. 

He takes a deep breath and buzzes Harry up. 

.

“Harold!” he gasps after he’s opened the door. “What ‘appened to your curly locks?” He can’t look away from where Harry’s gorgeous curls would’ve been, as they’re not anymore. 

Harry giggles, “You knew I was gonna donate it, Lou.” He runs a hand through what remains of his curls. “You should’ve seen everyone at work today; it was like someone had died or somethin’.” He then hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. “Do, d’you not like it?” 

“Hmm, ‘m not sure yet,” Louis says seriously. He gestures Harry in, closes the door behind him, and then steps in close, (thinking all the while _what the fuck are you doing?!_ ) reaching up to pet Harry’s hair, tilting Harry’s head for a better look. 

Because Harry is laughing and not pulling away, Louis manages to power through the embarrassment and finish his examination. He steps back, nods firmly, and says, “It passes muster, young sir.” 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Harry beams at him. “What smells so good, Lou?” 

Just like that, all of his nerves are back. “Um, fair warning,” he says, leading the way into the kitchen. “I haven’t cooked in literal years.” He waves towards the counter. “So, um, we have chicken stuffed with mozzarella cheese wrapped with Parma ham and a side of homemade mashed potatoes.” 

He glances over his shoulder and Harry looks so delighted that Louis has to look away again. He’d gotten everything out earlier so he says, “There’s plates there, and forks and things. So help yourself.” 

Louis doesn’t look at Harry again until they’re seated at the table directly across from each other. There’s butterflies in his belly and his heart in his throat, and he drops his fork when Harry asks, “How was the festival? It looked like fun.” 

He can always talk about his family, so the festival becomes a discussion of Daisy’s art which leads to fanart and then Harry’s designs for the show, and Harry keeps peppering in compliments of the meal and Louis doesn’t know how to react to them so he ignores them. 

But finally, when he can’t put it off anymore without vomiting from nerves, Louis says, “Do you remember when I asked if we were on a date?” He doesn’t look up from his plate, which has most of his chicken left but none of the potatoes. 

“Yes,” Harry says, a little warily. 

“And I said I didn’t want it to be a date, not yet,” Louis continues, fidgeting with his fork and knife. “But, I think I would like to date you, maybe. If we took things slow.” 

“Louis,” Harry says, but Louis can’t look up or stop now that he’s started, so he keeps going with, “Like, so completely slow that I’d understand if you wanted to move on because I’m damaged, Harry, and you can do so much better than me.” 

He has to pause for a breath and Harry says, “Louis Tomlinson,” in a voice so firm and deep that Louis can’t help glancing at him which is a mistake because once he’s seen Harry’s face, hopeful and sad at the same time, he can’t look away. 

“I’m okay with going at your pace, whatever that is,” Harry says, still in that same tone. “I’ve thought you were amazing since the fourth page of _Bloodfall_ and absolutely nothing I’ve learned about you since we actually met has changed that.” 

“But?” Louis asks, fingers clenching. 

“You said you’re damaged,” Harry says. “I don’t believe that.” 

Louis actually laughs aloud in shock and has to wipe at his eyes when they tear up a little. “Harry, have you met me?” he demands. 

“I have.” Louis’ face is still in his hands, so when Harry asks, “Please, look at me,” Louis slowly does. “I think you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, Lou,” he says, and there are tears dripping down his cheeks. 

“My only real relationship ended when I walked out after he shoved me into a mirror,” Louis says. Harry blinks and tilts his head but doesn’t speak. “It was only the third time he raised his hand to me but—” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Harry says when Louis looks back at his plate, unable to continue. “We have all the time in the world, Lou.” He shifts in place, pushes his chair back. “May I hug you?” 

“Please,” Louis whispers. 

By the time Harry reaches him, Louis’ trembling with the need to cry. When Harry wraps around him, he breaks. 

.

He cried on Liam, once, that he remembers. He’s cried to Mum quite a bit throughout his life, too, and with Stan, after his first crush turned out to be a bit of a bastard. 

Harry just holds him, in what’s got to be an uncomfortable position, until Louis finally pulls back, wiping his face with a napkin. He stands beside him, silent and steady, until Louis pushes his chair back and rises to his feet. “I don’t remember how this works,” he croaks out, wiping his face again. 

“Dating?” Harry asks. Louis nods. “Well, it’s just spendin’ time together, innit?” He reaches out to gently caress Louis’ cheek. “We’ve already been doin’ that pretty well.” 

Louis breathes out slowly, waiting until he feels steady to pull away. Harry’s hand drops immediately. 

“We should talk possible titles for the show,” Louis announces, marching towards his office. “Meet me in the den,” he tosses over his shoulder. 

He stays in his office perhaps longer than he needs to, hand to his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. When he finally gets to the den, papers clutched in his hand, Harry is looking at his wall of photographs—six siblings equals quite a few for a proud, adoring big brother. “You have a lovely family,” Harry says, glancing over his shoulder. “They all look so happy.” 

“They are,” Louis says. He gestures to the sofa. “Wanna sit?” 

Once Harry’s settled, Louis sits at the end of the sofa, turned to face him and crossing his legs. He holds out the sheet of paper with the final ten choices. “What do you think?” he asks. “For the show, I mean.” 

Harry takes the sheet delicately, reading through the names silently. “Have you said them all aloud?” he says. “To see what they sound like?” He snorts. “Hear.” 

Louis laughs slightly. “I hadn’t actually. Would you? You have a good voice for voiceovers, Harold.” 

Harry grins down at the paper. “I’ll do my best.” He clears his throat dramatically and then says, “Option One: _Harbinger from the Skies_.” Louis curls his lip slightly. That was much better before hearing it. “Option Two: _Fallen from the Stars_.” Not any better. Harry reads through the remaining eight and still nothing sounds right, but Louis was correct: he has a very good voice. 

“Have you thought about going on-screen yourself?” he asks, while Harry just smiles at him. 

“For awhile, back when I fancied myself an actor-rockstar in the making,” Harry laughs. “Then I discovered designing, when Gemma was in the school play and their costumes got messed up—rats, I think. Or maybe it was flooding?” He tilts his head, thinking, and then shrugs. “Anyway, I also discovered when it was my own turn in the play that while I enjoyed making people laugh, I also get nasty stage fright if the focus is on me for any real length of time.” 

“I did school plays, too,” Louis says, taking the offered list and smoothing it along his thigh. “I actually went to uni for drama, first.” He scowls down at the rejected names, all ten of them. “How can it be this fucking hard to name something?” 

“I might have a suggestion for that, actually,” Harry says. 

Louis glances up at him. “Really? Well, tell me, then, don’t keep me in suspense!” 

.

When Harry leaves at half ten, after the most fun date Louis’ ever had, Louis kisses his cheek and hugs him, and Harry is so warm, so comfortable—“Are you sure you want to try?” Louis asks as he pulls away. 

“I am,” Harry answers. He leans in slowly, telegraphing his intent, and it still somehow steals Louis’ breath when he presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Louis says. “It’s to check in with everyone, make sure everyone’s on board.” He smirks up at Harry. “I’ll tell them the name of the show, at last.” 

Harry cackles entirely too loudly for a hallway at half ten on a Monday night. “Tomorrow, Lou,” he says and turns to walk away. Louis watches ‘til he reaches the stairwell and then steps back into his flat. 

The food’s already all picked up, because Harry insisted on it so Louis strips and crawls under the covers and imagines what might have happened if he’d met Harry instead of Martin all those years ago. 

.

In the morning he wakes to a dozen texts from Harry; half of them are terrible jokes and half are sweet things he’s thought and wanted to share. 

Louis smiles down at his mobile. “There’s no way I’ll let you be more romantic than me,” he murmurs, sending back a few lines about how Harry’s laugh is like sunlight. 

All of the crew, from the producers to the special effects people and the costume designers, the lighting and sound people—they’re to all be in one of the auditoriums at 10, so Nick is to swing by and pick Louis up for a quarter after 9. Louis takes a quick shower, eats some of the leftover chicken for breakfast, rereads and finishes three of the incomplete poems that have been plaguing him, and is outside waiting when Nick pulls up at 9. 

“You’ve never been ready early,” Nick notes.

Louis shrugs with a grin. “It’s a wonderful day.” 

.

Nick brings Louis to Taylor’s office, where all the big bosses are waiting. “Where’s the list of titles?” Taylor asks. 

“Well, we don’t need it,” Louis says charmingly, smiling at all the big bosses staring at him with judgement in their eyes. “ _Skyborn_ ,” he announces. “From chapter 3 in _Exodus_ , ‘The Legend of the Skyborn.’”

“Seriously?” Taylor scoffs. 

“No, I like that,” one of the men Louis doesn’t recognize says. 

“I do, as well,” the oldest woman says. “Hmm. _Skyborn_.” She nods firmly. “That’ll be our show, then.” She rises to her feet and smiles at Louis. “Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson. From all the reports, you’ve been quite a good sport about our little show.” 

“It’s been fun, ma’am,” he says sincerely. 

“That’s good to hear.” She chuckles, striding to the door, so he steps aside. “Maybe we’ll have more work for you in future.” The rest of them all follow, acknowledging Louis with nods as they pass. 

When it’s just him, Nick, and Taylor left in the room, Taylor sighs in relief. “We’re all ready to begin production,” Taylor says. “And now we finally have a name for the articles.” 

“Well, I need to hit the toilet,” Louis lies. “So I’ll see you both in the auditorium?” 

“Yeah, see you,” Taylor calls, focusing on her computer. Louis waves at Nick and hurries back into the hall. The lift is in the opposite direction of the toilet but if he’s quick enough, Nick won’t notice. 

He sneaks into the costume design offices, peering around corners and cubicles; there’s no one at Harry’s desk, so he gets comfortable in Harry’s spinny chair and texts a selfie with Harry’s desk behind him to Harry. 

_Oi, that’s not yours!_ Harry replies. 

He sends another selfie of him with a raised eyebrow. 

_Fine, maybe it is,_ Harry grumbles with a frowny face. _I’m in a meeting with Caroline. Be there soon!_

Louis amuses himself with drawing Harry a few pictures on the notepad left on the desk. Nothing _**too**_ naughty, as it is Harry’s place of work, but that leaves Louis quite a bit of leeway. 

He’s on the fifth drawing (the previous four all hidden in drawers or pencil cases) when Harry arrives with a delighted, “Louis!” 

Louis smiles shyly up at him, tucking the notepad beneath the keyboard. “Hiya, Harry.” 

“Would you grant me the honor of escorting you to the auditorium?” Harry asks, so obviously trying not to laugh that Louis nearly laughs in turn. 

“Well, it’s not like I have anythin’ better to do,” Louis says dismissively, taking Harry’s hand when he offers for help (that he doesn’t need) out of the chair. 

Harry’s face scrunches, in possibly the cutest thing Louis’ seen since the littles were toddling around and falling everywhere. “This haircut is growin’ on me,” he muses, reaching up with his free hand to ruffle Harry’s not-as-long-but-still-as-curly locks. 

Harry squeezes his hand slightly before dropping it. “I don’t know how long this thing’s supposed to take,” Harry says, “but I can take a break after.” 

“Nick gave me quite a boring tour.” Louis taps his finger against his lips in pretend-thought. “Can you do a better one, Mr. Styles?” 

“I can indeed,” Harry says solemnly. 

.

Louis sits with the costuming crew while Taylor goes through last-minute announcements. She finishes with, “We start filming next week on Wednesday, June 15.” Everyone, including Louis, cheers. “So, this week, there’s lots of little details left to do, but we have a title now!” Everyone cheers again. Taylor finds him in the crowd and smiles at him. “Louis, wanna come up and tell everyone?” 

He really should’ve expected this. “Of course!” he says brightly, bouncing to his feet. 

Harry leads the applause for him, which finally dies down once he’s beside Taylor at the podium. “So, as everyone knows,” he starts, “we’ve gone through quite a few working titles for this show.” Some of them chuckle. “Anyway, I made a list of the best options from my twitter followers and went through it yesterday, but the best was offered to me by an anon on tumblr.” More laughter and Louis grins brightly. “So, thanks to the anon who suggested _Skyborn_ as the title of the show because that’s what we’re finally goin’ with.” 

Everyone cheers yet again and Louis waves to the audience before hopping off the stage to return to his seat. 

“So production on _Skyborn_ begins next week,” Taylor announces. “Let’s get to work, people!”

.

Harry’s tour of the BBC ends on the ground floor and Louis screwing up all his courage to kiss him on the lips. “The day after next, lunch,” he says as nonchalantly as he can once he’s pulled away. 

“I look forward to it,” Harry says. 

Louis strides away, containing his minor freakout ‘til he’s around the corner without a chance of Harry seeing it. 

.

He spends his afternoon sketching out what he’ll present to Ewan about his possible next books, and then he hides Liam’s birthday gift in a better spot, and then he cleans up his kitchen from the mess he left after cooking yesterday, and then it’s almost time for Liam to arrive—and then Liam texts, _Got off work early. Be there for half five!_

Which means that Louis has five minutes instead of thirty and he hasn’t planned out any of what he wants to mention. He feels a bizarre need to tidy the flat up even though he just did that yesterday. 

Liam buzzes downstairs. Louis takes a deep breath and lets him up. 

.

“Are you hungry?” Louis asks as soon as Liam’s toed off his shoes. “’ve leftovers from dinner last night. It turned out surprisingly good.” 

Liam gives him a head to toe examination, lips pursed. “How’d last night go?” 

“Better than I thought it would.” Louis spins in place, arms outstretched. “Happy? He didn’t hurt me, Liam. He wouldn’t.” 

Liam sighs. “I really want to believe that.” 

.

They talk about Liam’s work during dinner, and about how _Skyborn_ is going to start filming the next week, and about how Louis’ feelings towards _Bloodfall_ have shifted recently. 

Which, unfortunately, is the perfect segue to talking about Harry. 

He starts with the first couple years after he left Martin, the one-night-stands and those couple times in the loo, how he thought that’s all he could hope for until it left him feeling worse so he just stopped. 

“Stopped?” Liam asks, because Louis didn’t stop going out with the lads. 

“Hoping,” he says. 

Liam’s face falls. “Oh, Lou.” 

Louis sets his fork down. “I haven’t—you know I’ve never had to, to tell anyone about any of this. But until Harry, I really didn’t think I’d ever need to.” 

“So what changed?” Liam asks, putting his own fork down so that he can sit back in his chair to give his full attention to Louis. 

“It’s been a ghost hauntin’ me,” Louis confesses. “I’ve let him have this hold on me, and I’m just…” He sighs because that’s what it comes down to, really. “I don’t want him to haunt me anymore. Haunt what I think, what I do, what I say. I’ve given him too much already.” 

Liam’s jaw clenches. Louis knows he’s holding in the _I told you so_. Because he did, and Mum did. Everyone saw it before Louis. 

“So, I just need to talk, Liam,” Louis says. “Maybe it should be to a therapist.” He hesitates, glancing from Liam’s face to his clenched hands. “Are you… d’you think…” 

“I think I need to hear it from you,” Liam says slowly. “Because I’m haunted, too. I failed, Lou. As a best friend, as brother—I failed you.” 

Louis shakes his head. “You didn’t. I deliberately pushed you away—I chose him over you, and that was my mistake.” 

Liam picks up his fork. “Tell me anythin’ you want or need to tell me,” he says. “And then I’ll tell you how it was my perspective.” He very nearly smiles. “Let’s exercise this ghost.” 

Laughing slightly, Louis nods. “Exorcise, I think you meant,” he murmurs, turning back to his food, as well. 

He’s not sure where to begin, or how to start. They eat in silence for a few minutes, Louis methodically dissecting his chicken and then he asks, “D’you remember when I stopped replying to your texts?” 

“Which time?” Liam scoffs, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen it for what it was, that first time.” 

“That’s the one I meant,” Louis says. It was the only that was intentional—when he gets caught up in writing, weeks can pass.

He exhales slowly, gathering the words, and then he starts. 

.

Liam ends up spending the night and then calling in to work. They spend the day vegging on the sofa and shooting the shit, and Louis feels like an ache he’d never realized he felt had finally faded, revealed only in its absence. Liam pokes him in the shoulder every time he texts Harry or receives a text ( _ **not**_ all from Harry. just most of them.), and he needles him gently in a way he didn’t about Martin. 

“I’m still not sure how I was so blind,” he muses whilst starting up FIFA. 

“What’s important is that you got away,” Liam says, in that tone he uses so rarely, like he’s an ancient sage or something. It happens from time to time, and each time, Louis is just awed. 

“Liam, I think I want a tattoo,” Louis blurts. He’s talked about possibilities with Harry, with Liam, with Lottie and Mum, the lads and Niall, even Nick. None of them have suggested anything he’d actually feel comfortable inking into his skin, but there is an idea he’s been kicking around. 

“Yeah?” Liam doesn’t look over, frowning at the screen. 

“Tonight.” 

At that, Liam does look over and Louis doesn’t even take advantage, just pauses the game. “You want to get a tattoo tonight?” 

Louis nods. “Come with me?” 

Liam scoffs. “As if I’d let you go alone.” 

.

It hurts, of course, but he’s been hurt worse. 

“I suggested something small,” Liam says as they leave, “but that’s fairly tiny.” 

Louis grins down at his wrapped-up wrist and takes a picture with his mobile. He adds, _Remember your first tattoo? Just got mine._ and a winky face, then sends it to Harry. “Thank you, Liam,” he murmurs. 

Harry replies almost instantaneously: _Holy fuck, you got a tat? Tell me tell me tell me!_

He snickers and sends back _“ ”_ before grinning up at Liam. “What are the lads up to?” he asks. 

“Niall’s plannin’ to drink until he forgets Dave tonight—‘m not sure if he’s gonna quit or get fired first,” Liam says. “Bressie’s back in town, too, so there’s supposed to be a do at Niall’s pub.” 

“Well, it’s nearly 4.” Louis nudges him. “Let’s get some food and let ‘em know we’ll be there.” 

_LOUIS,_ the next text reads. _I am in a meeting so I cant ring you but TELL ME_. 

Louis cackles and when he turns to share the joke with Liam, Liam’s already looking at him, smiling so bright it hurts. “I think I’m gonna like this one,” he says. 

“I hope you do,” Louis says, locking and pocketing his phone.


	2. Louis' books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had to figure out the books Louis had written in order for him to a writer. Because I can't help but worldbuild. So here they are.

Louis Tomlinson’s books

2008 : _Bloodfall_ \- standalone novel about vampires dealing with a zombie apocalypse. Cora and her childe Ronnie are being hunted by Theo (a half-zombie magician) and Demara (a zombie sorceress) for a ritual. Very dark and funny. Released independently. Was unsuccessful. (131 pages)

2009 : _‘til I Change My Luck_ – collection of short stories and novella following a magician with a gambling problem. Won six awards and made Louis famous. (203 pages)

“I Roll and I Roll” – Introduces Jem Marcela, a young (29) magician who has lost the family fortune through gambling, as he attempts finding work. (21 pages)

“Riding on the Wind” – Jem Marcela goes to his hometown to visit his remaining family (cousins, younger sister (24)) and learns that his niece (6) has powers she can’t control. (46 pages)

“Maybe We’re Fireproof” - Someone Jem Marcela owes money to tracks him down and he has to fix the situation. (30 pages)

“I Think I’m Gonna Win This Time” – Jem Marcela gets drawn into a murder conspiracy and has to solve the murder before dying himself. (106 pages)

2010 : _Changeling_ – horror novel from the point of view of a fae child exchanged for a human child. Won awards. In talks for a movie. (230 pages)

2011—2016 : _The Fortress Series_ – Five novels about aliens landing in a fantasy medieval society and the chaos that results. 

Book 1 _From the Sky_ (2011): Aliens land on the outskirts of Yren, a large city in Parabin, a realm at war with its neighbor realm Kylos. Humans, elves, and dwarves coexist peacefully in Parabin but King Santos of Kylos wants to eradicate dwarves because of a long-standing feud between his family and a dwarf clan. 

The queen of the aliens, Madria, offers her aid to King Tomas of Parabin if he allows her people to settle in his land. She befriends the Princess Elisabeta (Lis), who spends most of her time learning about Madria’s homeworld Qin. (500 pages)

Book 2 _Exodus_ (2012): Tells the story of Qin, Madria’s homeworld, which became uninhabitable because of a civil war that engulfed the planet, as Madria relates it to Lis. Also provides the backstory of King Santos’ family’s history with dwarves. Also details the Qinas trying to settle along the coast of Parabin. Explores the differences between humans/elves/dwarves and Qinas. Lis and Madria grow closer while Madria’s personal guard Rolan and a few Parabineans grow jealous. (702 pages)

Book 3 _River’s Crossing_ (2013): King Santos of Kylos dies suddenly, throwing Kylos into confusion. Santos’ son Prince Aen is too young to rule so his uncle Prince Niko assumes regency. The war continues.

In Parabin, some of the king’s counselors accuse the Qinas of killing Santos and also of ensnaring King Tomas with their magic (tech). Attacks begin on Qinas settlements. Some of the counselors demand that Madria provide her people’s magic (tech) to end the war with Kylos. She refuses.

Lis disappears, seemingly kidnapped by Kylos forces. Madria and her most elite (including Rolan) sneak into Kylos to find and rescue her. 

The final two chapters reveal a conspiracy between Rolan, two of Tomas’ most trusted counselors, and Niko of Kylos. They plan to unite the two realms under one banner and then divide it into parcels amongst themselves. Madria kills Rolan for his treachery and then Niko in self-defense. She goes into hiding after sending word (via tech) to her people that they should scatter and wait for a message from her. 

Lis is still missing and Kylos’ regency goes to the remaining royal sibling, Princess Jaena. The war stalls as Kylos’ forces begin to pull back. (651 pages)

Book 4 _Fire Within_ (2014): Details the politics of Parabin and Kylos as Princess Jaena and King Tomas try to cease hostilities. Both have people looking for Madria and Lis. The Qinas have scattered not only in Parabin and Kylos but also in other countries; each is touched upon.

Explores the dwarf clans and elvish society. Dwarves begin experimenting with Qinas tech. Small skirmishes on all sides. 

Final chapter has Madria finding Lis in a catatonic state and triggering the healing trance Qinas can fall into where they trade their life force for the afflicted’s injuries. Ends on a cliffhanger. (632 pages)

Book 5 _Ascendancy_ (2016): Begins with Madria seemingly dead. Lis returns to Parabin’s capitol to assume her place. Tomas is assassinated, apparently by rebel Kylos forces, so Lis becomes queen. Most of the Qinas rally to Etani, Madria’s sister, and then break into factions; some Qinas search for Madria. 

Meanwhile, there is an elf healer with a mysterious patient, and Queen Lis rejects all marriage alliances offered to her. 

Ends with Madria waking in the healing house and Lis receiving a message that has her smiling. (706 pages)

TBA:

[The Mermaid Who Dreamt of Flying](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1611044)


End file.
